


Rise Again From Ashes

by Independence1776



Series: RAFA 'verse [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Relationships, Character Study, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Reconciliation, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 60,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Independence1776/pseuds/Independence1776
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending millennia wandering Middle-earth, Maglor returns to Valinor, where he attempts to adjust to both his Valar-imposed restrictions and living once more with the Eldar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many, _many_ thanks go to Pandemonium_213 for betaing this story. I owe her far more than I can give.
> 
> In the 2011 MEFAs, RAFA won First Place in Character Study: House of Finwë.
> 
> Winterwitch made [a gorgeous banner](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/indy1776/17896228/8089/8089_original.jpg) for this story.

I knelt stiffly and painfully on the stone ground, hands folded in my lap, head bowed and long hair curtaining my face. Tired and afraid, I did not look up. Hours I had been there, first standing, then kneeling. I heard birds chirping faintly in the background, heralding the approaching dawn. The crisp air was still in the predawn blackness. I felt nothing but the soft clothing I wore, cold stone beneath my legs, and the cool air against my skin. I saw nothing but the ancient gray stone in front of me. That was what my world consisted of: stone and fear.  
  
“Will you not look at me?” a deep voice asked kindly  
  
I closed my eyes and shuddered. I did not deserve mercy, not after what I had done. Not even after all these millennia. Not now, not ever.  
  
“If that was true, you would not be here.”  
  
Only then did I raise my head and look at Manwë, whose seat in the Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom, I knelt in front of.  
  
“My lord-”  
  
“Silence. The time has not come for you to speak. Instead, listen.”  
  
I once again bowed my head, but raised my eyes once again at the Elder King when none of the Valar spoke.  
  
“Son of Fëanor, for thousands of years you wandered the shores of Arda marred. For thousands of years, you mourned the lives you took. You regretted the Oath you swore in grief and anger. You regretted almost everything you willingly did. You unwillingly, under duress of pain, gave the last Silmaril to the Sea. You lived in sorrow and pain all these many years. At times, even now, you rage against us. At times, you rage against yourself. At times, you wish you had never been born.”  
  
I ducked my head again, ashamed. No other Elf I knew of had ever wished such. No other Elf would. I doubted they could even conceive of why I wished so.  
  
“You, Maglor Fëanorion, are a Kinslayer. You swore an Oath that put your soul in peril. You defied the will of the Valar and of Eru.”  
  
I closed my eyes, unable to look at the fearsome expression on the Elder King's face.  
  
Then I heard Manwë say softly in his deep voice, “Maglor son of Fëanor, your sins are forgiven. Your Oath has been released, not by us alone, but by Ilúvatar.” Unbelieving of what I heard, I opened my eyes and met the Elder King's now compassionate gaze. “Welcome home, Child of Eru.”


	2. Chapter 1

I looked at the Elder King in shock. My dreadful oath was forgiven? My crimes, my sins? Every terrible act I had committed, every person I had killed, everything? It couldn't be true. No one could be that forgiving, that merciful.  
  
“Oh, Child, there is so much you do not know and do not understand,” Manwë said. “We have watched and heard you these millennia, waiting for the proper time in which to bring you home.”  
  
“Never doubt,” Varda said, “that we grieved for you, Maglor.”  
  
I ducked my head again, ashamed, but noting what Varda had not said. Grief was not the same as love.  
  
“But it flows from it, Fëanorion. For can there be grief without love, without compassion, without caring?”  
  
I froze at her words, staring at the stones on the ground before me, slowly brightening from a deep gray to a softer one in the growing light. I didn't deserve their love.  
  
“Dear Child, we have always loved you and always will. Although your actions grieve us, that does not mean we stopped loving you. Eru, more than all others, loves you. If that is so, how can we do differently?”  
  
I met Manwë's eyes. “I know not, my lord. But I do not understand how you can do so knowing my crimes.”  
  
“Why is Elrond Peredhel standing watch, waiting for you?”  
  
“Because he cares for me,” I whispered, lowering my head again. “Because I raised him as a child, and he has not forgotten my kindness.”  
  
“Do you start to understand now, Maglor?” Varda asked.  
  
“I begin to, my lady.”  
  
No one spoke for several minutes. I did not look up, even when the sun crested the horizon and bathed us all in light. I studied the worn stones in front of me, trying not to look at my faintly scarred right hand: the hand that had thrown the Silmaril into the Sea; the hands that had committed so many wrongs. The hands that belonged to the person who deserved neither mercy nor kindness.  
  
“What is to become of me?” I finally asked, breaking the soft silence, still not looking up.  
  
“Stand, Maglor Fëanorion. Stand and face judgement,” Manwë declared.  
  
Exhausted, I did so, standing straight with the last remnants of pride I had. I would not shame the Eldar by refusing to face my punishment with dignity. I had done enough to them.  
  
I did not look behind me at the soft approach of a set of footsteps. I smiled slightly, grateful for Elrond's support, though he had been unable to enter the Máhanaxar until now. The Lord of Mandos stood and I gulped, remembering far too well the last time I had seen him and the Curse he had spoken.  
  
“Maglor Fëanorion, this is your judgement, your doom,” Námo intoned. “Thou shall remain in Valinor until world's end. Thou shall not return to Arda Marred, no matter your desires. Thou will be stripped of all titles and shall not be allowed to receive oaths of fealty.  
  
“Thou shall abide in the House of Elrond as the least of his people. Thou shall not wander beyond his borders unless thou hast permission and two warriors escorting you.  
  
“Thou shall not carry or handle weapons. Thou shall not provoke fights. Thou shall not respond to those who attempt to provoke you. If self-defense is needed, cause minimal harm and escape at first opportunity. Thou shall do nothing to cause a disturbance of the peace of Valinor. Thou shall behave with respect, even to those thou feel are undeserving. If, for any reason, we doubt your sincerity and actions, thou shall once again come before us.”  
  
I nodded and said, “I shall abide by these strictures.”  
  
The Elder King nodded in satisfaction and dismissed us. Elrond moved alongside and we bowed deeply, turned around, and walked slowly out of the Máhanaxar. Once we left the Ring of Doom, I lost the iron control I had over my body and started shaking. Elrond gently touched me on the shoulder, but I shook his hand off, ignoring the concerned look. I drew in a deep breath and let it out, regaining control. We made our slow way to the inn we had eaten a swift supper at last evening, when we had first arrived in the Elven city surrounding Valimar. We now walked silently through the crowded streets, few people paying attention to us, whether out of malice or some other reason, I could not tell.  
  
When we reached the inn, I followed Elrond silently up the stairs, too exhausted to even contemplate eating. My foster son-- now my liege lord-- studied me and nodded toward my room. I raised an eyebrow, but he said, “You need to rest, Father. If needed, I _will_ drug you.”  
  
I snorted, headed into my room, and closed the door behind me. I examined the sparse room, noting the window opposite the entry that would give me an opportunity to escape if need be. The bed was against the far wall, a desk next to it, and a low chest of drawers-- all made of cherry-- against the wall to my immediate right. The floor had a couple of blue throw rugs on it, but the hardwood gleamed softly in the morning light. A door opposite the bed led into a small bathing room and I was gratified to see a shower. At least that much had remained the same-- there were only so many ways to wash a body. I returned to the room, closed the curtain, and grabbed a sleeping garment out of one of my bags. After a brief shower, I crawled into bed.  
  
I wasn't sure if I would be able to fall asleep, given my memories of the night. I had not expected mercy, had barely dared to hope for it. But I knew that I could no longer run and hide. It had been time to take responsibility for my actions. It had been time to return.  
  
And with that thought still running through my mind, for the first time since I swore the Oath, I fell asleep without fear.  


* * * * *

  
  
I woke up to a dark room, light barely filtering through the curtain. I frowned and then remembered this room faced east so little sun would reach it come late afternoon. Had I truly slept that long? I stretched, got out of bed, grabbed some clothes, and padded into the bathroom to get ready for supper. I looked in the mirror after I dressed and shook my head. I still looked exhausted, even after eight hours of sleep. Then again, no Elf I had met before-- save Father-- had undergone a trial in the Máhanaxar, though his had not been near as lengthy. I left the bathroom and reached my door just as someone knocked on it. I opened it and smiled at Elrond.  
  
“Do you think you can handle eating in the common room?”  
  
I nodded and said, “I'll have to face the Eldar eventually. Better now before they know I am here, unless word has already spread?”  
  
“I have heard nothing-- yet.”  
  
I half-smiled and followed my foster son down the stairs to the entrance to the dining area. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had willingly returned to Valinor to face judgement by the Valar. Walking into a crowded room should not be harder. But it was. The Valar had forgiven me. That did not mean the same was true of the Elves. But the innkeeper led us to a secluded table, where I hoped I could eat in relative peace. As we walked through the room, I noticed people of all races, both men and woman as well as a couple of children. I took my seat facing the wall, refusing to risk being recognized.  
  
As the room grew more and more crowded, however, it swiftly became clear that word of my trial and pardon had been promulgated, as the majority of the conversations were about it.  
  
“That's right-- I heard the Valar pardoned him. I can't imagine why.”  
  
“He should have been disembodied and thrown into the Halls of Mandos.”  
  
“It's been thousand of years-- can we forgive him?”  
  
“He killed me, and the only thing I want from him is a sincere apology.”  
  
“Well, I want him removed from Valinor. He stayed on Middle-earth for millennia; he can stay there for millennia more.”  
  
I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, ignoring Elrond's look. I couldn't stay there. What if I was spotted? I opened my eyes and said, “May I please be excused?”  
  
Elrond shook his head and said, “You will attract too much attention. Furthermore, given that the last time you ate was a day ago, as a healer, I am not going to let you leave this table until you eat something.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow and said, “I wasn't aware you were my mother.”  
  
“No-- just a concerned son.”  
  
I smiled and picked up my fork again, though I didn't resume eating my pork and steamed vegetables until Elrond lifted an eyebrow of his own. After I finished, I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and tried to keep control of my emotions while listening to the various conversations, most of which were still about me. I should have left when I had the chance.  
  
Some time later, I opened my eyes when someone started singing softly, barely heard over the conversations. I looked around and spotted the Elf seated near the bar, a small harp on his lap. At first, I didn't recognize or understand any of the songs, all of them obviously having been composed since I left Valinor. Then the Noldo started singing the song I wrote all those millennia ago, after the Kinslayings: the _Noldolantë_. The room grew quiet and still, and I looked around.  
  
Most of the Elves had tears in their eyes, and a couple were openly crying, something which I found both surprising and gratifying, given the age of the song. Eventually, a couple of Noldor sitting at a small table by the window started singing as well. I glanced at my lord, who was looking steadily at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I looked back out into the room, not wanting to meet his gaze.  
  
Midway through the song, though, I finally gave in to the impulse that had been building since the song began. I began to sing, softly at first but quickly growing in confidence and volume. At first, few paid attention to me except those nearest, but my voice carried to the far corners of the room, filled with sorrow and regret. Just a verse later, the minstrel stopped singing, though he kept playing. The rest of the room grew silent.  
  
When I finished the song, I put my head in my arms and wept.  
  
The room remained silent and then the minstrel started singing again, a more cheerful song. No one said anything, but turned back to their conversations, leaving me to my grief. Elrond simply placed a hand on my shoulder before quickly withdrawing it. After I could cry no more, I asked Elrond if I could be excused, and this time, I was. I quickly wiped my face on a napkin and headed to the doorway. Just as I reached it, the minstrel finished the song and turned to me.  
  
“Please, sir. I have not heard anyone sing like you. What is your name and who was your teacher?”  
  
Softly, I answered, “My teachers were many, and no one person taught me everything I know. As for my name, it is Maglor Fëanorion.”  
  
And rather than answer further questions, I slipped out of the room and up the stairs, ignoring the momentary silence and then the burst of noise that came from the dining hall.


	3. Chapter 2

I woke up the next morning with the light of false dawn slowly brightening the room. I stayed under the covers for a moment, luxuriating in the warmth, before I remembered where I was and why it wasn't safe for me to stay there. I crept out of bed, peeked through the crack in the curtains and relaxed when I saw no crowd surrounding the inn. In fact, I saw no one. That alone was surprising, given what I remembered of life in Valinor, there had always been people on the streets, no matter the time.  
  
I let the curtain fall and extracted some clothes from a bag so I could get dressed, for Lord Elrond and I would be leaving after breakfast. After I took my shower, I stood on the hardwood floor in bare feet, drying my hair. It felt strange to be here in Valinor after all these years. It was even stranger given that I had expected to be a prisoner. My freedom-- the little of it I had been granted-- was even more precious for that reason. I may have restrictions on what I could do, but I was free.  
  
It was something the Valar hadn't even granted to Morgoth until he had spent three Ages in Mandos. But what I had done was, while heinous, less grievous than his actions. And I had spent my time since the end of the First Age in exile. Maybe, just maybe, the Valar had considered that reparation enough.  
  
I tossed the damp towel onto the bed and automatically put my hair into a loose ponytail so my ears would be hidden. I smiled and redid it-- there was no reason to hide them here. But the smile slid off my face when I remembered that there would be similar actions that I would have to learn to curtail, for they would be embarrassing here where they were not needed.  
  
Once my hair was fixed, I tugged on a pair of socks and slipped my feet into my boots. I scanned the room, put the small bag of hair ties back into my bag, and hung the towel over the rod in the bathroom. I then gazed out the window at the sunrise, the blacks and grays turning into soft oranges and pinks while the sun slowly rose. A soft knock on my door made me smile and turn away from the window. I opened the door to find Elrond there.  
  
He smiled and said, “Would you like to eat breakfast here or in the dining room?”  
  
I looked my foster son in the eyes and said, “The dining room. There is no point in my hiding up here-- the Eldar know I have returned.”  
  
He nodded and stepped out of the doorway. I followed him down the hall, listening to the inn slowly waking up. Smells-- mostly of fresh bread and cooking sausage-- wafted up from the kitchen. The innkeeper's wife smiled at Lord Elrond and inclined her head politely at me, directing us to a small table near the window. I sat down only after my lord did, remembering the protocol that had driven much of court life in Tirion in the past, no matter that I had only been involved on the periphery, more focused on my music than politics.  
  
I ate mechanically, not truly tasting the eggs nor the sausage. Instead, I concentrated on the people starting about their business. The dining room slowly filled, some people coming from upstairs-- one family with a talkative child only of about twelve- and others coming in for a quick meal before work. Few paid attention to us, though I did note several curious but not hostile glances. But I ignored them, focused on learning mannerisms and other details that would seem normal to people living here but would make me stand out for not using them. Still, not much had changed. We Eldar were far too bound by tradition and memory for some things to change easily. Even the clothing-- although it had evolved-- was not radically different from what I remembered.  
  
After breakfast, while Elrond talked with the innkeeper, I returned to our rooms, gathered the bags, and met my lord by the entry. He smiled and took his bag from me and walked outside to where a leggy brown horse hitched to a small cart waited. I followed him, readjusting my grip on my own baggage. Once at the cart, I tossed my bags in next to Elrond's and climbed onto the seat. Elrond, by that point, had already taken the reins and was waiting for me. Once I was settled, with my violin securely under the seat, did he click his tongue and the horse started moving.  
  
Because the traffic-- both pedestrian and vehicular-- grew more congested as more and more traveled to work, leaving the city was slow. However, it gave me a chance to notice things I hadn't on the journey here. Most of the traffic was mounted, but it wasn't on horseback. People were on bicycles, though they didn't look exactly like the mortal versions, with only a few mounted on horses. I leaned against the cushioned seat, astounded. When had the Eldar invented bicycles?  
  
I asked Elrond, who laughed and glanced at me before returning his attention to the road. “It was a surprise to me as well upon my arrival. They were invented during the last part of the Second Age, after Númenor fell. Too many people couldn't afford to keep horses, or the cities were too crowded, so one of the Noldorin smiths who had remained behind during the Rebellion invented it.”  
  
I nodded and asked, “What other technologies are there?”  
  
“It depends on what area of Valinor one lives in for some of them-- there's a few large settlements far to the south where the weather is constantly warm that have a form of air conditioning-- but for the most part, they are little things. Printing presses were invented during the Exile; photography not long after that.” He smiled at me and continued, “Many of the things you became used to in Middle-earth we have here, though we may never have electricity or things of that nature. We simply do not need them. But we do have other things mortals don't, or at least not reliably.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored me for the moment, concentrating on navigating the road out of the city. Once out of traffic, he said, “Aircraft. Most of it is gliders or hot air, but we do have a few airplanes. Manwë's eagles were not happy about it at the beginning, but they have learned to share the airspace.”  
  
I laughed aloud, imagining the look on an eagle's face. “And what did the Valar do?”  
  
“Nothing. I think they have learned their lesson about dealing with the Eldar.”  
  
I snorted. “And it took them how long to learn this?”  
  
Elrond looked steadily at me, the horse pulling the small cart well able to deal with a clear road. “How long did it take for you to realize that you did not hold the entire blame for the deeds of your family?”  
  
I ducked my head, ashamed. “I apologize.”  
  
“For what? You are allowed your opinions. Just be warned that not all will welcome them.”  
  
“The ones who won't welcome them will be the same ones who wish I had never returned. But more will be wary if I speak such, and many of those will think I will be countenancing another rebellion.”  
  
Elrond nodded and said, “You can blame Elladan for the first airplane. It took him nearly fifty years to create a working one, given everything he had to learn about flight, but he managed.”  
  
“Your elder son. And how did you find out?”  
  
“When he flew over the house.”  
  
My mouth dropped open. “How did he manage to power it?”  
  
Elrond grinned and said, “Mortals would called it 'human-powered' aircraft. I am not entirely sure how it works, but powered flight is one of the reasons Elladan is in Middle-earth at this point.”  
  
I shook my head and said softly, “When do you plan on returning?”  
  
“I will not.” He looked at me, all humor gone. “I returned to find you. Maglor, you must understand that it was only a _yén_ ago that the Valar allowed us to return. I do not know why they waited until the Seventh Age, nor how long this will last. I remember Círdan telling us in the Second Age that the Straight Road only went one way: to Valinor. It took Ilúvatar to change that, though the mortals still cannot find it. Rather than have you wander until the End, I had to at least bring the message that you were welcome to return. It was the least I could do for the one who raised me.”  
  
“And what did Eärendil think of this?”  
  
“He understood. We have had Ages together now, Maglor. He knows that in many respects, you are more my father than he.”  
  
“Where does he live?”  
  
“Near Alqualondë, in the tower built for Elwing while he was voyaging.”  
  
I nodded. “He voyages no longer. There is a planet there now.”  
  
“According to the Valar-- and since they helped build this solar system I trust them on this-- there was always a planet there. We just could not see it.” He looked up at the blue sky and sighed. “Things have changed, both here and in Middle-earth. It will take days to explain everything.”  
  
“Fine. Since you aren’t going to explain how the Valar meddled with our perceptions, at least tell me about the important things: politics and laws.”  
  
Elrond stretched before turning slightly to face me. “Finarfin rules the Noldor, which you knew. He is not… pleased, even now, with the House of Fëanor. I do not know how he will react. Alqualondë you should avoid unless you have an extremely good reason to visit. The Teleri will only tolerate you at best. They hold the House of Fëanor responsible for many of the problems of the Darkening.”  
  
“And so they ignore Morgoth's actions?”  
  
“Hardly. The Teleri know full well who caused everything to happen, but they firmly believe that your father should have waited to see what the Valar would do.”  
  
I nodded in agreement. “They feel much the same as I do.”  
  
Elrond smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I would not tell them that-- they may change their minds just to spite you. King Ingwë may or may not wish to speak to you. I think he's willing to wait until you are settled here.”  
  
“Talk to me about what?”  
  
Elrond half-smiled. “I know not. Finarfin will be more demanding if he desires to speak with you. I think he will, but only when he can no longer ignore your presence.”  
  
“There goes any hope of reconciling with my extended family.”  
  
Elrond laughed. “There are those who wish to speak with you, your grandfather being the main one.”  
  
I said quietly, “He was released from Mandos?”  
  
“Two Ages ago. He refused the kingship. I think he finally realized what his actions in regards to your father--”  
  
“You mean his favoritism.”  
  
“Partly, but I also think that--”  
  
“I would rather not discuss this, Elrond.”  
  
“As you wish.”  
  
Elrond turned his attention back to the road, and I looked out over the passing landscape, trying to ignore my memories of the last time I saw my grandfather. Fields of cereal grains, intermingled with other crops, stretched as far as I could see, broken only by scattered houses and small villages. A light breeze brought the smell of honeysuckle to my nose, as well as less pleasant things, like fresh fertilizer.  
  
“What technologies do these farmers use?”  
  
“More efficient plows. The Vanyar hereabouts tend to be more conservative. Some of them think the Noldor are once again going further than they should.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I think technology frightens many of the Eldar, due to what happened with the Silmarils. At the same time, many of the Silvan and Sindar peoples are concerned about damage to the environment.” Elrond snorted. “I think they think that because the Noldor tend to live in cities of stone instead of among the trees that they don't care. But the Noldor as a general rule tend to be more careful than the early crafters. They do not always create just to create; many of the time they invent technologies to help us.”  
  
“There is nothing wrong with knowledge for knowledge's sake. Still, I'm glad they think of the consequences.”  
  
We traveled in silence for several more hours, only stopping for a break at noon to eat and to rest the horse when he required it. Once back on the road-- this time I was in control of the horse for practise-- Elrond asked me what I wished to do.  
  
“I don't know. I rarely thought that far ahead. When I did, I figured I'd be working on my music. But I couldn't allow myself to think beyond the trial, in case I had been imprisoned in Mandos.”  
  
“Then may I make a suggestion?”  
  
“Elrond, you're my liege lord. You can order me if you so wish.”  
  
The peredhel gave me a wry look. “Do you truly think that will help?”  
  
I said, “No, but it may make people feel better.”   
  
Elrond laughed and said, “It may. Now, you know that there are Eldar who wish to travel to Middle-earth.” I nodded and let him continue. “There's a loosely organized system of schools for them. Given the differences in Elven culture versus mortal, as well as the languages, it is safer for all concerned. Our main problem is that those who travel there tend to stay for several decades and then return. And there are not enough people here at any given time to teach those who wish to travel.”  
  
I interrupted. “And there's a school of this sort on your land where you wish me to teach.”  
  
“You know better than anyone the intricacies of mortal relationships. You know their histories, their languages, and their beliefs.”  
  
“And by helping, it's giving me another reason for being on your land.”  
  
“It will also help you learn modern Elvish culture, given you will be comparing things. You can ask questions in a setting where people will understand.”  
  
“Instead of one where they may not answer at all.”  
  
“Indeed. I make no pretense of the fact that there will be those in my House who will not welcome you. Father, please be cautious.”  
  
“I will be, Elrond. You have my promise.”  
  
We returned to silence, only talking when I asked questions about the land around us. I finally had an answer to where his land was-- south of Lady Nienna's abode but close enough to Lórien so that he could ride there.  
  
“It is on the coastal plain, something Elrohir appreciates. I think it is the Telerin blood in him showing.”  
  
I laughed. “Probably. So he isn't in Middle-earth?”  
  
“He has no desire to go. He prefers to remember it as it was.”  
  
I nodded and turned back to watching the road. “What is life like on the estate?”  
  
“We are self-sufficient, but we still do a lot of trading with surrounding communities. Most of those who live there are Noldor, of both full and mixed blood. Frankly, at this point in time, there are few Noldor who don't have someone from either the Teleri or Vanyar in their ancestry somewhere. Not that it has ever truly mattered.  
  
“Our house is still a place of reflection and tolerance, but it is more popular with those who would rather not have the Valar nearby. Elven culture now tends to group itself around who was where and when. Most of the settlements near us are those who lived in Middle-earth at the end of the Third Age. It makes it somewhat easier to live, given how things change, even for us.”  
  
Silence fell between us again, but it was comfortable. Here, I didn't have to hide and he didn't have to be conscious of being both my foster son and my liege lord. We finally stopped at twilight. I kindled a small fire to heat up our meal and while Elrond took care of the horse. We slept under the stars, and I couldn't help but smile when I saw how clear they were compared to Middle-earth. The night I had spent in the Máhanaxar I had been too busy concentrating on the Valar to look at the night sky.  
  
The next two days passed in a similar fashion, traveling from farmland into hills and back, until we neared the coastline. Late one afternoon, I spotted in the far distance a long, low structure set on the top of a small hill overlooking the sea. I pointed it out to Elrond.  
  
“Yes,” he said. “The House of the Sea-hills. I cannot see it yet-- you know my eyesight is less keen than a full-blooded Elf's. It’s home.”  
  
I smiled and said, “I hope it becomes home for me as well.”


	4. Chapter 3

  
It was another few hours, nearing midday, when Elrond finally turned off the road and guided the horse along a winding drive. The landscape had changed the nearer we came to the Sea, the hills becoming less steep though no less tall. The vegetation, especially near the shoreline, changed into scrub in some places, forests of pine in others. Yet throughout, there were still stands of maple and chestnut, ash and oak. Tall grasses waved in the salty breeze blowing in from the ocean. Out on the water, near the horizon, I could see a three-masted ship slowly coming towards shore.

The dirt track that the cart traveled on was smooth and carefully maintained. It dipped occasionally into hollows between the rounded hills, but for the most part, the scenery was spectacular. Rolling hills were covered in grains and other crops, left to lie fallow, or covered with waving grasses. Houses of various sizes were scattered around, some nestled in the hollows, others built on top of hills, others into them. Straight ahead was the main house, nestled low against the crest of the hill. It was made of soft golden sandstone, blending into the landscape. Wide windows on the ground floor were open, obviously to let the breeze cool the interior. The upper two floors also had windows open, and there were a few people scattered here and there on the balconies, working or relaxing in the heat of the day.

One woman walking alongside of the track with a basket of cloth on her back waved at us as we passed. Elrond returned her greeting and turned off at the small courtyard in the back of the house. Several people-- two of whom were arguing -- awaited us. Elrond stopped the horse and leapt out of the cart, lifting a silver-haired woman and spinning her around before kissing her. I slowly climbed down, somewhat stiff and conscious of the stares. I glanced at Elrond, uncertain of my welcome. He took his wife's arm and escorted her to me. She smiled, a dimple appearing on her left cheek.

“Celebrían, may I have the honor of presenting Maglor son of Fëanor?”

“It is my pleasure,” she said, meeting my eyes. “Welcome home.”

I bowed to her. “My lady.”

She laughed and removed her arm from Elrond's. “I'll show you around. I think my husband will be too busy dealing with Elrohir and Erestor to do so.”

At that, Elrond sighed, smiled at me, and strode toward to the dark-haired two men standing in the shade of the house arguing about ships and docks. Celebrían took my arm and led me out of the courtyard into the house. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the relative dimness indoors.

“Do not worry about your belongings-- they'll be transferred to your quarters. Now, this is the main house. When my sons and their families are staying here, it can become rather hectic.”

I snorted. “If they were half as bad as their father, my lady--”

Celebrían grinned wickedly. “Do tell. He has remained stubbornly mute on several things. And my name is Celebrían, not 'my lady'.”

I laughed. “Later, please. Right now, I'd rather learn my way around so I don't become hopelessly lost.”

“As you wish. But I will hold you to that promise.”

She then led me through the house, pointing out the main dining room, the Hall of Fire-- a tradition from Imladris-- and several other areas of interest. I remained quiet, preferring to listen to her speak so I could take in the environment. Almost every room had a view of the ocean or of the fields and hills behind the house. The furniture was mostly of carved pine and other local woods. Decorations consisted mainly of driftwood, shells, and other such things, though there were paintings and statues scattered around.

She pointed toward one of the many staircases. “Upstairs are living quarters. My family's are on the south side of the third floor, and guest rooms are on the north. The second floor are suites for families for those wishing, for whatever reason, to live in the main house.”

“Are there other living quarters?”

“There are small houses scattered here and there. Those who work outdoors tend to live in the ones closest to their areas of work. Unlike Imladris, we have room to spread out here.”

I nodded, slightly confused. Just how small had Imladris been? I knew it was founded as a refuge, but it had been one of the main Elven settlements of the Third Age.

“Furthermore, some of the things that were cramped in Imladris have their own buildings now. The infirmary is one of them-- Elrond formed a small school-- but the library is his pride and joy. It has one of the largest collections of books in this area of Aman.”

“May I see it?”

She looked shocked. “Where did you think we were going next? I have the feeling I may have to assign the page who retrieves Elrond from his books to do the same for you.”

I raised my hands and said, “I did not know. And that is a distinct possibility, my lady. I fear there is too little I know about Valinoran history.”

“Ah… Yes, that will be an issue. You may not understand some of the books, though,” she said as she led me outside and down a wide stone path, covered with an arbor to block the sun, to a large, multistoried building nearby. “I know you can speak modern Sindarin and Quenya, but can you read them?”

“Of course. But I fear you're talking about books written in the intermediate versions.”

She nodded and pulled open the wood door with bronze inlays. “Someone will be willing to translate them for you, but it would do you better to learn the languages.”

I looked around. Marble of various colors formed the entryway and a dark-haired Sinda seated behind a large desk to the left looked up. “So this is the new resident. Welcome to the library, Fëanorion.”

I greeted him politely and followed Lady Celebrían into the stacks. I felt the Sinda watching me until we turned the corner.

“This floor is the general collection-- mostly fiction and poetry on this side; music on the other. The next two floors are the histories. The second floor is of the First through Third Ages; the third Fourth Age on. There is a small archive on the second floor devoted to Middle-earth history, but few people bother with it.” She shrugged and headed up the stairs. “The Amanyar tend to think it is of little importance.”

“I don't.”

She turned and looked at me. “Amanyar you may be, Exile you are more. But you are correct-- I should have said those Elves born in Valinor after the Third Age ended.” She led me to a small section of the history books. “These are the general histories- the _Quenta Silmarillion_ , the _Ring Wars_ , _History of Tol Eressëa through the Sixth Age_ , and others. I think you'd better start off with the Quenta-- it covers what happened in Aman during that period-- _Tol Eressëa_ , and the _Valinoran History_ series.”

I crouched next to the shelf, removing the first book she had mentioned, but not before the volume next to it caught my eye. I looked up at Celebrían with a small smile. “And Tolkien's _Silmarillion_ is good enough to stand next to Elvish works?”

“Elrond insisted, though he did make a note in the front saying that due to it being Mannish, some things-- notably the creation myths-- were wrong.”

“I wouldn't know-- I've never read it.”

She nodded, unconcerned. “I did not think you had. But have you read _The Lord of the Rings_?”

“Only after your husband told me it was accurate.” I hesitated and finally decided not to say anything about Arwen. “Now, do I have to read them here or can I take them to wherever I'm living?”

“The latter. You check them out at the front desk, but there is no hurry to return them unless one of the library staff notifies you otherwise.”

I pulled the other books she had mentioned from the shelves, and carried them back to the desk. The Sinda made a point of not touching me, nor did he meet my eyes during the entire transaction. On our way out, though, a small painting in an alcove caught my eye. I walked over and studied it and closed my eyes. Why did he have to be so arrogant? Why couldn't he have been content with inventing the Tengwar and other works? For that was what the painting was -- a young Father sitting at a desk, quill in hand, with one of Rúmil's books propped open above the paper upon which he was writing his new Tengwar script.

I turned away from the painting and walked out of the library, books under my arms. Celebrían quietly followed me out. I turned to her and asked, “Why?”

“You will have to ask my husband.”

“I fear I will have to ask him a great many things.”

“Undoubtedly. Now, would you like to see where you will be living?”

I nodded and followed her down a path that wound along the crest of the same hill the main house was on. Confused, I asked, “Am I not to live in the main house?”

She looked back at me, silver hair glinting the sun, and smiled. “Elrond hoped that the Valar would not imprison you. If you had not been remanded into his custody but were yet free, he would have asked you to come live here at the House. So, with that hope, he had one of the small houses opened. The last people who lived here moved out over twelve years ago, and no one was interested in moving into it. You will have to ask him for more specifics.”

“Why did no one want to move in?”

“It is rather far away, and also rather small.”

I nodded, still not convinced that I wanted to live away from Elrond, but we did end up walking a fair distance, up and down several hills, before the path ended in a gravel-filled courtyard at the top of yet another hill. The building before me was small and made of a pale gray stone that gleamed dully in the afternoon light. A wooden balcony wrapped around the second floor, as the courtyard did around the ground floor. The courtyard itself had several flowers arranged in pots, mostly for accent color, since the focus-- at least on this side of the house-- was on the ocean.

Celebrían cleared her throat, and turning my attention back to her, I followed her indoors. Thanks to the large windows in all but the north wall, there was no need for a lamp at this time of day. I studied the living room, noting the placement of the simply carved furniture whose cushions were a pale blue. Rather than shells and driftwood, smooth colored pebbles-- either scattered across a flat surface or in various containers-- were the chief decoration. The floor was tiled a darker shade of blue, save in the small living area, where it was a darker shade of the same pale wood as that of the furniture. I put the books down on a low table and snorted with amusement at the odd hybrid of styles: it looked like a Noldorin home trying to be Telerin. But I didn't mind-- I had spent much time in Alqualondë and rather liked the simplicity.

The kitchen appliances were situated on the north wall with a small rectangular table under the window on the south. A north wall also hid the bathroom and the stairwell. Rather than explore the kitchen-- I would have to ask how to use the strange-looking tan appliances-- I headed upstairs.

Steep stairs climbed along the north wall. A small window about the middle of the staircase provided light for them, given there was a closed door at the top. I opened it and walked into the single bedroom. A large picture window showed the grand western view of the water glinting in the afternoon sunlight. I turned and looked at the rest of the bedroom proper. A small bed-- only large enough for one- was flush against the far wall. A nightstand stood next next to it. A low dresser and a tall wardrobe completed the furnishings, all made of the same pale wood as the furniture in the lower level of the house. The rest of the room was bare, save for a desk nestled in the southwestern corner. Large windows looked both east and west, but the largest was on the south wall, so there would be light throughout the day. Two covered floor lamps stood in the southeastern corner of the room, but I wouldn't move them until nightfall, so I would know the best locations for them. I unlocked the door in the western wall and stepped out onto the balcony, leaving the door open behind me. I leaned against the white railing and let the breeze blow my loose hair around.

“Do you like it?” Celebrían asked from behind me.

“It's lovely. But why all the way out here?” I turned around. “The truth, this time.”

“I told you the truth before, Maglor,” she said coldly. But her voice lightened as she continued, “Elrond thought you would appreciate the privacy. There is a red lampstone in the drawer of the nightstand in case of an emergency. Just place it on the stand”-- she pointed to a small sconce attached to the northernmost post of the balcony-- “and someone will see it. There are other houses nearby, so you are not entirely alone.”

I smirked and said, “Just the farthest away from the household. Is he truly that ashamed?”

“The question is: are you?”

I raised my eyebrow at Galadriel's daughter. “That isn't something I feel comfortable talking about.”

She laughed and said, “No, you are just being your father's son right now.” I blinked and she shook her head, “I suggest we return to the main house. Dinner will be served soon.”

I grimaced at my travel-stained Mannish clothes. “I fear that I do not have any appropriate clothing.”

She smiled and said, “There should be a formal outfit in the wardrobe. I'll be downstairs.”

She padded down the stairs, and I heard the faint squeak of chair when she sat down. I sighed, wishing I could spend the evening along, and walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out a forest green tunic with silver embroidery along the hems and a pair of black trousers. I found no footwear, so I would have to wear my boots. I walked downstairs and into the bathroom, ignoring Celebrían who waited patiently for me. I swiftly washed up, changed, and pulled my hair into a tight braid. I looked at myself in the mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair behind an ear. It would do for now.


	5. Chapter 4

Celebrían and I made our way back to the main house in silence. Elrond greeted us at the door, and his wife ascended the stairs. The half-Elf appraised me and smiled.  
  
“I am glad the clothes fit. Come, we need to talk.”  
  
He turned and walked down the hallway to a room that his wife had pointed out as his study during her tour. I slipped into the room after him and closed the door behind me. I sat down in one of the leather seats in front of the desk and looked around the room in silence while he poured water into two glasses and handed one to me as he sat down behind his desk. His study was sparsely furnished, but filled with bookcases, with the only decoration -- save carving along the edges of the bookcases and desk -- a mural depicting a scene of a deep valley at dusk with a lit house at the bottom.  
  
“Tonight, as is my custom for any guest or when someone chooses to join my household, there will be a feast. You are the guest of honor.”  
  
“My lord--”  
  
Elrond smiled gently, “Fear not, Father. Little has changed in regards to protocol. As for your being here, there is no point in hiding. People have seen you walking about with my wife, and they would wonder why there was not a feast.”  
  
“I'm a _Fëanorion_ , Elrond. Few will want to see me so honored.”  
  
“Do you truly think that my leadership of the only remaining realm of the Noldor in the Third Age meant that there were no Kinslayers in my household? Or that I do not know how to deal with the ancient prejudices? You did not know this, Maglor, but I have defended you since my arrival on Tol Eressëa. Not all your actions-- that I cannot do-- but those that make you better than some wish to remember you.  
  
“I am well aware of much of the sentiment regarding your arrival in Valinor. It used to be an intellectual exercise for those wishing to become involved in politics to imagine what would happen if your father or your brothers were released from Mandos, because it served to highlight the differences among the Elves. It is now a moot point-- it has become reality.” Elrond stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of the bookcases at the back of the room. “Father, your life here will be difficult. You have to adjust to a new way of life, in a culture that is both familiar and foreign. There will be conflicts, even here. I love you as a father, and Celebrían wishes to know the one who raised me.”  
  
“And what does Galadriel think of that?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and taking a sip of water.  
  
He smiled a little and said, “She has said nothing. However, I made a point to notify no one that you were coming with me back to Valinor. She knows by now, but given her history with the Valar, she may be more sympathetic than most will guess.”  
  
I nodded. “Elrohir?”  
  
“The same as his brother: they wish to know their grandfather. As for the feast tonight, you have to do nothing but sit there. I do expect you to stay in the Hall of Fire after the meal for a little while only. I do not think you will be comfortable among so many in an unstructured environment.”  
  
“Is that why my house is as far away as it is?”  
  
“For your privacy, yes. I had assumed you wished for peace.”  
  
“Though I do have neighbors.”  
  
He nodded. “Of course. My lands are not so large that everyone can be out of earshot of everyone else.”  
  
“Where do your lands end, my lord?”  
  
“Thirteen miles to the south from here, and seven to the east. South of here is a Silvan kingdom, settled mainly by those from Greenwood the Great. East is free land for several leagues, until the small forest begins. That belongs to those from Legolas Thranduilion's Ithilien colony. He still rules there, and visits here occasionally.”  
  
“His father?”  
  
“Rules a land further south. Now, we should head to the feast.” He looked at me sternly. “I will not allow you to avoid this.”  
  
I sighed and nodded. “I live here-- I cannot avoid people forever. May as well do it with your obvious support.”  
  
“As if anything I do in regards to you could be construed differently. Maglor, you truly have no idea the troubles I have suffered because of you.”  
  
“You didn't have to,” I said quietly. “I deserve the hatred and contempt.”  
  
“You also deserve love, Maglor. I cannot forget the kindness you showed by raising my brother and me.”  
  
I snapped, “A kindness only needed because I drove your mother away and murdered those in the town.” I stopped at the look on his face and sighed. “This is as hard for you as it is for me, Elrond. I do not think now is the time to discuss this.”  
  
“In that, you are right, Father.”  
  
Together, we headed out of the room and to the dining hall. I stayed behind him as we made our way to the table on the dais. I sat down where indicated-- between a golden-haired Noldo who introduced himself as Glorfindel and Elrond himself-- and looked around the crowded room.  
  
The west window looked out over the gardens leading to the ocean, letting in the light of the setting sun. Three long tables stretched before the dais, crowded with people. To my surprise, most were merely glancing curiously at me, although a few were openly staring. I recognized none of the faces, save for the members of Elrond's family. Elrohir was too busy discussing something with Erestor, though I suspected it to be a continuation of their earlier argument given the way Elrond was looking at them. Celebrían was seated between her son and her husband, and she gave me a brilliant smile when I caught her eyes. Maybe this feast wouldn't be so bad after all.  
  
As it turned out, it wasn't, though it wasn't the most pleasant one I'd ever been to. Thankfully, though, it was far more casual than any that I had been forced to attend in Tirion. Elrond tried to engage me in conversation a few times, but I was more content to listen than talk. Glorfindel made a point of politely greeting me, as well as asking a few questions about inconsequential things, but he wasn't overly friendly. And I hadn't expected him to be, once I found out who he was. So, I listened to the conversations about the upcoming harvest, the somewhat dry weather, the ongoing argument between Erestor and Elrohir, antics of children, and the other day-to-day doings of a large household.  
  
It was such a large contrast to the last few gatherings of the Eldar I had attended that I couldn't help but marvel. Then, our main concerns were battle plans and the protection of those not fighting. Now, domestic issues took precedence. There was no concern for safety. This was Valinor, after all. But I couldn't help but be conscious of the fact that my safety was not guaranteed. I made yet another addition to the mental list I was keeping of things to discuss with Elrond.  
  
Finally, the feast concluded and the majority of the crowd gathered in the Hall of Fire. I stood along the back wall, as far from the central fire pit as possible. Elrond made no special mention of me and instead just sat in on a bench next to his wife and listened to the music. I stayed for a few songs -- enough to realize that Lindir was one of the best Noldorin singers I had heard -- before catching Lord Elrond's eyes . He smiled sympathetically and nodded. Now given permission to leave, I smiled back at him and slipped out of the hall. Once in the empty hallway, and out of the view of the Eldar, I was able to relax slightly, though I wouldn't be able to do so fully until I reached the safety of my house. There, I could lock the door and guarantee my privacy.  
  
But I didn't even make it out of the main house before someone grabbed my arm.  
  
“You should not be here, Kinslayer. This place is too good for such as yourself,” said the Sinda, clad in a light blue tunic with a stylized _numen_ emblazoned on its right shoulder.  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him and kept my voice low and controlled. “Possibly. But the Valar remanded me into Lord Elrond's custody. I am not here by choice -- though if I would have had it, I would be-- and you have no right to punish me further.”  
  
The Sinda jerked his head towards me and his two friends stepped up, crowding me against the wall. “If you put even one toe out of line --”  
  
“The Valar will make sure I do not do so again. I am well aware that I am in Valinor on sufferance. I take full responsibility for my actions. I do not deny what happened nor my part in it.”  
  
“And I hope you continue to do so,” he sneered and finally released his painful grip on my arm.  
  
I refrained from rubbing it as I opened the door and made my way to the path leading back to my house. Only when I was out of sight did I do so, and I knew that I would have bruises. I slipped along the path, listening to the rise and fall of the waves to my right. That was something I would have to become used to again, given I hadn't lived by the seashore for centuries. I glanced up at the cloudless night and then back down at the gravel path to keep from slipping. At last, I reached the house Elrond had given me and went inside, locking the door behind me.  
  
I headed upstairs and uncovered one of the floor lamps in the corner. Leaving the lit lamp where it was, I placed the other next to the desk. I then changed out of my formal outfit into my nightshirt, walked to the western window, and leaned my head against the cool glass.  
  
What was I doing here? Yes, the Valar had made quite certain that I would be in the one household sympathetic to me, but beyond that? I didn't know. After all, why should I? I had expected to be imprisoned in Mandos. And it wasn't Elrond I was worried about. Although we would have to talk about some difficult subjects, I knew it would not much change his opinion of me. It was everyone else, including his family, who concerned me. Celebrían was a wonderful woman, but how long would her kind regard of me continue to last? His twin sons, one of whom was in Middle-earth and would not be returning for years, were another worry. How much were they pretending for their father's sake?  
  
I stepped onto the balcony and watched the waves crashing on the shore, spraying salty water into the air. It wasn't even Elrond's family who worried me most. How could I face the population of Aman? Elven memory is not perfect-- which is a blessing at times-- but it is remarkably vivid. And the memories of the Darkening and Rebellion… Those were all things my presence would dredge up.  
  
Was it worth it? I leaned against the railing and undid my braid, letting the wind whip my hair around. Compared to my life in Middle-earth, everything here was uncertain. There I had plans, though they generally culminated in my moving every few years. I had friends, though I allowed none of them to get close to me. And I was alone. But here? I didn't have to hide that I wasn't mortal. I didn't have to worry about moving. I had friends, though I didn't know if any would be willing to talk to me. I closed my eyes and sighed. Especially Telepevola, who had been my closest friend for years. Why would he want to have anything to do with me? After all, I had killed him on the quays of Alqualondë. Others, those whom I knew in Middle-earth, possibly.  
  
That brought up another question: how many had been released from Mandos? And did they truly have to bear no grudge against those still living in order to be released, as Elrond had told me? Would the Teleri accept me on Aman? Would anyone besides Elrond?  
  
I stared up at the brilliant stars, twinkling in the moonless night. I had no answer for any of my questions. Some of them, I doubted I ever would. It was long after midnight before I sought my bed, and even then, sleep was elusive because there was little I could do to calm my raging mind. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of birds heralding the false dawn.


	6. Chapter 5

I woke up only a couple hours later, when the light streaming through the thin curtain covering the eastern window grew too bright. I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. Why did the blasted sun have to rise so early? But it was pointless to go back to sleep. I had things to do, the most important of which was talk to Elrond. I could not and would not put it off.  
  
I grabbed a change of clothes from my dresser-- someone had unpacked my belongings for me-- and padded downstairs. I took a fast shower, dressed, and pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail. I then padded into the kitchen barefoot, the wooden stairs and tile floor cool underneath my feet and ended up poking around the cupboards for something to eat that didn't require me to use the strange appliances. Given enough time, I could have figured out how to use them, but I was hungry, and there was nothing I could find that didn’t require their use.  
  
I stood there, staring at the offending appliances that meant I would have to go to the main house for breakfast, when a soft knock intruded. I glared at the door, but opened it. A smiling Elrond stood on the other side, carrying a small wicker basket. I gestured for him to come in and closed the door. He put down the basket on the table and looked at me.  
  
“I figured that you would rather eat in peace.”  
  
“You wouldn't even have had to bring food if there was any in this blasted place.”  
  
He laughed and said, “I will show you how to work the appliances after we eat.”  
  
“And then we need to talk,” I said quietly.  
  
“Then we will talk.” He opened the lid of the basket, pulling out a small loaf of freshly baked bread, some wrapped sausages, and some cheese that resembled what Men would call cheddar. Able to at least offer my lord some water, I poured two glasses and sat down across from him at the small table. We ate mostly in silence, enjoying the simple meal. Or at least I was, for I did not know what Elrond was thinking. After I cleaned the crumbs off the table and my foster son explained to me how the appliances worked, explaining the various dials and buttons, we sat down on the sofa.  
  
I fiddled with my water glass and finally looked my foster son in the eyes. “I don't think I should be here.”  
  
Elrond raised his eyebrows. “The only other place you could dwell is Lórien, under direct supervision of the Valar. They do not trust you.”  
  
“They have little reason to. But why do they trust me here?”  
  
“They think I can keep you under control if need be.”  
  
Now I laughed. “Do they underestimate what I am capable of?”  
  
“I think you are overestimating yourself. You may be able to overcome me, but you would not be able to overcome Glorfindel and some of the other warriors.”  
  
I sighed and looked down at my water. “I know. I'm not the Elf I used to be.”  
  
“Thank the Valar for that. But you are still arrogant.”  
  
“Arrogance as a mask for fear,” I snapped. “I do not feel I am safe here. I was accosted after I left the Hall of Fire last night. I came back here in fear, hoping no one would ambush me.”  
  
Elrond straightened slightly and his voice grew a little chill. “Who?” I described the man and his friends, and my foster son sighed. “The tunic means he is a student at my school, but there is little more I can do with the scant description. But people will talk, and I will find out. Rest assured you are safe.”  
  
I placed the glass on a side table and stood up, striding to the window overlooking the courtyard, staring out over the water. “Out here? Where there's empty land to the south and east, and only a couple of families to the north? With an ocean to the west? Sure, I'm safe.”  
  
“What would you prefer-- a room in the main house where you would not have a moment's peace? It is rarely quiet there, Maglor. And you need a space to retreat to when things become overwhelming; you always have.”  
  
I half-smiled and turned around, leaning against the sill. “I'm surprised you remembered that.”  
  
He chuckled. “After bothering you one too many times when you wanted solitude, it is hard to forget. In any case, I cannot ask people to guard you nor can you be allowed to feel this insecure.” He rubbed his face with a hand. “And you cannot carry weapons… The Valar have not made this easy.”  
  
“If it was easy, it wouldn't be a punishment.”  
  
“I am of the firm belief that you were punished enough during your exile.”  
  
“Ah-- so you believe the Valar are wrong?”  
  
He said nonchalantly, “They have been wrong before.”  
  
Wrong before. That was an understatement, thinking back to a certain… being… in the First Age. The Valar had certainly been wrong then.  
  
Looking at the expression on my face, Elrond chuckled and said, “I am not an overly reverant Vanya. I remember what you taught Elros and me, as well as further experiances in later Ages. We relied on ourselves against Sauron, with the only assistance from the Ainur being five Maiar, only _one_ of whom returned to Valinor at the end, the others having fallen to various degrees. But you read _The Lord of the Rings_ ; you know this.”  
  
“To a certain extent. But I plan on reading more about it.”  
  
“I saw the books you borrowed. Back to the issue of your safety-- if you think it necessary, you could ask someone to escort you here and back. Or you could travel near someone.”  
  
“I doubt that people will be willing to let me. They'll probably think I'll jump them or something.”  
  
“You are not a common thief, Maglor. They will think no such thing.”  
  
“So what's the common portrayal of us, Elrond? As creatures to be pitied?”  
  
“As Eldar who were misguided, somewhat insane, and impetuous. And yes, pitiable. Elven memory is long, Father, long enough that most have forgiven you.” He took a breath and slowly let it out. “Long enough that they can see that the Rebellion played a necessary part in the Music.”  
  
I snorted. “Necessary at what cost? If only we hadn't been so stupid.” I turned back to face the sea, sorrow coloring my voice. “I have no family left, Elrond. Mother and Narmincë… I don't know if they'll even want to talk to me. The same with the rest of my extended family. As far as I am aware, you are the only one who wants me around.”  
  
“Your wife will want to see you-- she writes once or twice a year to me and visits occasionally.”  
  
“So what did she think of you coming to Middle-earth to retrieve me?”  
  
“Narmincë never said. It is not something easily written in a letter.”  
  
“Not with all the history between us.” I sighed and said, “I'll give her and Mother time. And if they come looking for me, tell them I need the same. I've been in Valinor for a week-- that isn't time enough to adjust to anything.”  
  
“No, it is not. Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss?”  
  
“When should I start teaching?”  
  
“In a week's time-- a new session will start then. Until then, feel free to wander. I trust you would like to learn your way around?”  
  
I nodded. “I'd like a screen for my bedroom, to separate my sleeping area from the rest of the room.”  
  
“I will show you to the storeroom, at which point I will have to leave to attend to my duties.”  
  
I smiled and followed my lord out of the house, locking the door behind me. “Duties” represented yet another understatement. I did not envy him being the head of a House. At least with the House of Fëanor, it was only me and I wasn't even in charge of it due to the Valar's strictures. Once at the storeroom door, Elrond headed to his office and left me to deal with the prim Noldo in charge.  
  
He helped me search through several storerooms full of discarded furniture until I found two matching wooden screens, carved with a motif of leaves around the edges. I also chose a large blue area rug for the floor, as well as several small bookcases. Although my bags of clothing had been unpacked by whoever had brought my scant belongings to the house, the crate of books and music had not been. The Noldo assured me they would be delivered by dinnertime, so I thanked him and left the main house.  
  
I wandered behind the stables, cutting between several paddocks and climbed to the top of one of the hills. As I approached the peak, however, I heard something that sounded suspiciously like weaponry being used. When I crested the hill, my suspicion was proved true. A large training ground spread across the the hollow, with an armory built into the hillside opposite me. In the ring, Glorfindel fought with two men while a dozen students of both sexes stood and watched. Curious to see one of the two Eldarin balrog-slayers fight, I sat down on the hill, ignoring the scratchy grasses covering it.  
  
His yellow hair was braided, and then knotted at the back of his head. The two fighting him wore similar hairstyles, and I realized that Glorfindel, at least, had remembered the lessons of the war. Of course, given how he had died, I hadn't expected anything less. As I watched the fight, it became quite clear to me that this was a training exercise, though I couldn't hear the words he was saying to his students due to the wind blowing from the sea.  
  
The glitter of the swords in the sun, the clanging faintly heard, the thud of the swords on armor or shield, all served to remind me of the futile battles I had fought against Morgoth. I drifted back in memory, to the blood and death, the bittersweet victories, the terror of flight. Only a touch to my shoulder brought me out of them, and I looked up into Glorfindel's concerned face. Once he saw I was aware of him, he sat down next to me, no matter that he stank of sweaty leather.  
  
“It was hard for me as well, the first time I saw sword practise in Aman. It was something I had to learn to work through.”  
  
“I can't,” I said bitterly. “I'm not allowed to even _hold_ a weapon. After what I did… I'll never be trusted to hold one again. I probably shouldn't even be here.”  
  
“The Valar said nothing about you being near the training grounds, Maglor. Do not place more restrictions on yourself than what they gave you.”  
  
I looked at him and then at the grasses. “I deserve more. I don't even know what I'm doing here, my lord. I don't fit in. Aman has moved on and the culture I grew up in no longer exists.”  
  
“How do you think I felt after my rebirth? It was the same for me, though Noldorin culture at that point was far less trusting than it is now. I had no kin alive at that point, Maglor, unlike you. Few were willing to accept me at first, though when I first visited the Exiles on Tol Eressëa, they welcomed me as a hero, not the least for the saving of Eärendil. But over time, I did make many inroads with the Aman Noldor, and I started talking to the Maiar.” He snorted. “You would be amazed how little the Ainur understand us, but they have learned over the long Ages.”  
  
“Well, that explains why they interfered in what should have been a family matter,” I said bitterly, recalling Father's trial.  
  
“It was not purely a family matter, though, Maglor.”  
  
I sighed and finally looked at him. “I know. Morgoth's lies and everything that was tied into them was also a cause. But I'm allowed to be bitter.”  
  
Glorfindel laughed. “There are plenty of Exiles who still are, and who resent the Valar for not helping sooner. You will find that even among the Noldor, there are plenty of cultures that will fit you better than the one you were born in. Elrond, in his wisdom, chose to settle here for a reason. Like in Middle-earth, his House is a sanctuary, a place for reflection, and a meeting place for those of differing viewpoints. He is a negotiator here and usually helps to mitigate the conflicts among those of various races.”  
  
“So why bother with me? My presence will only hinder him, my lord.”  
  
“ _Glorfindel_. As for hindering, that depends on many things, including your actions.” He lay back against the hill and looked at the sky. “Maglor, contrary to what you may feel, many here welcome you as one who has returned after many struggles and hardships. Your actions, while horrendous, happened thousands of years ago. The vast majority of the Eldar have forgiven you.”  
  
I muttered, “I find that hard to believe.”  
  
He laughed and sprang up. “I know. Now, I have to clean up, and I need to talk to Erestor.” He started walking back down the hill, but he turned to look back at me from only a few dozen feet away. “Do not brood. Find something to do. I am sure Lindir will appreciate some competition.”  
  
I couldn't help it-- I laughed. Glorfindel grinned at me and headed down the hill. I stood up, brushed some grass off my backside, and returned to my house. I decided that while I was waiting for my furniture to arrive, I could start reading one of the borrowed books.


	7. Chapter 6

Two weeks later, I had become not just a tutor, but a full-fledged teacher at the small school for those wishing to travel to Middle-earth. I wasn't sure what I thought of the work-- it was useful, yes, but it hurt knowing I would not be able to return to the land I had lived in longer than I had in Valinor. I spent my days teaching languages-- mainly English, French, and Spanish-- and the basic history and cultures of the modern world. This early in the half-year course, we had only begun to cover the basics. I was still the secondary teacher, though I tended to be the one people went to for help given my experience.  
  
But outside of classes, people ignored me. I spent time in the Hall of Fire-- both to acclimate myself to groups of Elves and to listen to the music-- but no one sought my company. Tired of being ignored, I stopped going. Because the classes demanded my time, I only watched the warriors practicing once, and Glorfindel wasn't there. I finally withdrew from any activity other than teaching, knowing it wasn't the smartest thing to do but unable to help myself, and just stayed in my house.  
  
I couldn't help but think that if the people in Elrond's house didn't wish to be around me, the rest of Aman would be even more unwelcoming. And I was stuck on Elrond's land unless I wished to face the wrath of the Valar.  
  
So I turned to my music, playing my violin because I had no other instrument that I could easily play with my scarred right hand. I didn't bother to compose anything, for no Elf would want to listen to something that had been influenced over thousands of years by Men. And it would be played on an instrument made by a Man, and no Elf would care that it was a Stradivarius.  
  
Lost in my music, I flinched when something blue flickered at the edge of my vision. I stopped playing and spun around, only relaxing when I realized it was Elrond. I put my violin on the stand next to my desk, loosened the horsehair in the bow, and dropped it on my desk.  
  
“Is there something I can help you with, my lord?” I asked.  
  
“I am sorry for startling you. I knocked, but you failed to hear it.”  
  
“The door was locked.”  
  
My foster son grinned mischievously. “You should have stopped Maedhros from teaching Elros and me to pick locks.”  
  
I laughed, remembering several occasions where they had not considered a locked door to be a hindrance to getting my attention. “Now my question must be: do you carry the tools to do it everywhere?”  
  
He shook his head, the grin still on his face. “Only when I am dealing with my sons when they are in a mischievous mood, or if I suspect that my father will not answer the door.”  
  
I rolled my eyes and said, “What do you want, Elrond?”  
  
He crossed the floor and leaned against the wall. “I am going to Lórien for a couple of weeks. I would like you to come with me.”  
  
I froze, barely breathing. Why? Was I too much of a bother for him? Had I done something to offend him? Was I being punished for not doing something? “My lord…”  
  
“This is not a punishment, Maglor,” he explained, his voice patient. “I just thought you would like to get away from here, given you are not socializing.”  
  
“I'm not adjusting well, in other words.”  
  
“No, you are not. I had not expected this to be easy, which is why I think a couple of weeks in an area where there are no expectations of you would be a good thing. You need to center yourself, Maglor.”  
  
I laughed bitterly. “No expectations? Two Valar live there, Elrond. They expect me to disobey, to do something that will let them lock me in prison and throw away the key.”  
  
I stalked to the eastern window and looked out over the serene rolling hills covered with grass and a scattered flock of sheep. Why could Elrond not simply leave me in peace?  
  
“Father, what is wrong?” Elrond asked.   
  
I continued gazing out the window. “Nothing. Everything is fine; why do you ask?”  
  
“Sarcasm will not help.”  
  
I spun, furious. “It's bad enough that you-- or anyone else-- haven't even bothered to talk to me since the second day I was here! But now you want me to go to Lórien with you? Don't try to be devious, Elrond. It doesn't suit you. You think I'm irreparably broken, and you want the Valar's opinion.” I saw him open his mouth, but cut him off. “Now get out. I don't want to speak with you. Just leave.”  
  
“As you wish.”  
  
I watched him walk out of the room and listened to his steps retreating down the stairs and out the door. I moved to the floor-to-ceiling western window and glimpsed his blue tunic as he strode down the path, head bowed. Once he was out of sight, I turned and sank down, back against the cool glass.  
  
What had I done? Driven away the only person who seemed to care about me. Simple as that. Now the Valar would call me back in front of before them, and I would no longer have a choice in any part of my life. Right now, that wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.  
  
I stood and returned to my violin. Rather than play, I carefully put it and the bow into its nylon-covered hard case and headed out to my balcony. I sat on the wide railing and pulled my hair out of the ponytail in which it had been restrained so it wouldn't get tangled while I played my violin. The wind from the approaching storm blew my hair around my face, but I didn't care. Hair was the least of my worries.  
  
I looked down at the path again and saw Elrond as he crested a hill close to the main house. He didn't even bother to look back, not that I had expected him to. He had done his duty to bring me here. Now I was the Valar's problem.  
  
A short while later, when the sun sank behind the gathering clouds, a voice from the courtyard intruded into my brooding. “You do realize he is worried about you?”  
  
I looked down from my perch on the railing and saw Glorfindel standing with his hands on his hips. “No, he isn't. And if he sent you to talk to me, you can just turn around and go back.”  
  
“I came of my own free will, Maglor son of Fëanor. Now you either come down here or I will come up there, your choice.”  
  
I slipped back onto the balcony. “I'll come down there. Would you like anything to drink?”  
  
He shook his head and I went outside, locking the balcony door and the main door behind me. I sat down on one of the stone benches in the courtyard and waited in silence, not looking at the golden-haired Elf. He sat down next to me, and I finally glanced at him, surprised by his concerned expression.  
  
“He truly is worried. He has helped people adjust to life in Aman before, but I think-- and do not tell him I said this-- he feels helpless now. People who have integrated before have not been reviled. Even the hobbits had a warm welcome, as did Gimli, given who his patron was. But you… You are a Kinslayer, and one of Fëanor's sons. Few expected that you would be allowed to return before the End. Elrond is having a hard time convincing anyone that you are safe.”  
  
“I'm not safe. I'm broken, useless, a scapegoat,” I replied. “You do realize that after our conversation on the hill , this is the longest discussion not related to my duties that I've had? No one wants to talk to me. They avoid me, or walk away, or pretend they didn't hear me speak.” I looked down at my hands. “I should have just stayed in Middle-earth. At least there I had people to talk to.”  
  
“Have you given your neighbors a chance?”  
  
I shook my head. “I don't even know when they're home.”  
  
He nodded. “Once you return from Lórien, I will introduce you.”  
  
"I will not go."  
  
With a soft voice, he said, “So you will disobey an order from your liege lord and face the consequences, for which you will not only answer to Elrond but also to the Valar.”  
  
“I am aware.”  
  
“Maglor, look at me.” When I met his kind eyes, he said, “I care. Elrond cares. He does not want you to suffer unduly. The consequences for disobeying the Valar are severe. You could be imprisoned in Mandos or forced to live in Valimar under the Valar's direct supervision. You could lose the limited freedoms you have, and you may never regain them. The Valar do not trust you. The Elves of Aman do not trust you.”  
  
“ _Do you think I do not know that?_ No one trusts me, Glorfindel.”  
  
He smiled. “Elrond does.”  
  
“You don't.”  
  
“No, for I have no reason to. But you can earn it, and you can do the same with most of the others that I have mentioned.”  
  
I gazed out over the sullen gray sea, the day cooling down now that the sun was behind the clouds, though the humidity was growing worse due to the storm. “And how would I gain it?”  
  
“That is up to the individual. I can give you no further advice.”  
  
We sat in silence as the wind picked up, scattering tiny stones and sand across the courtyard. I finally said, “Tell Elrond that I apologize.”  
  
“You will tell him yourself, Maglor. I will not allow you to use me as your go-between.”  
  
“Glorfindel, do you even realize how frightened I am? Going anywhere near the main complex is extremely difficult. It's why I spend my time out here, alone. I cannot trust that I will not be hurt otherwise.”  
  
He eyed me steadily. “Do not let fear master you. I know that you cannot help it right now, but that will come with time. You need to talk to Elrond, Maglor. Do not suffer in silence.”  
  
I nodded, unwilling to give a more affirmative answer. Would Elrond even deign to speak with me after the way I had treated him earlier?  
  
“Come to dinner with me, Maglor. You can talk to him afterward.”  
  
“I'd rather not face a crowd.”  
  
“Fine. We can take food and wine from the kitchen and find a quiet place to share a meal.”  
  
“Why are you even bothering? I thought you didn't trust me.”  
  
“I do not. But you need at least one friend here. I am not including Elrond, for he is both your foster son and liege lord. I truly do not know what the Valar were thinking-- your relationship is complicated enough without adding that into it.”  
  
“And what would you know about needing friends?” I snapped. “Balrog-slayer, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, reborn hero--”  
  
“When I returned to Middle-earth in the Second Age, few would speak with me besides Gil-Galad and Elrond. They did not trust that the Valar had no ulterior motives, that I was not there to judge them for failing to heed the call when the First Age ended.”  
  
I met his eyes. “I'm sorry. I hadn't realized.”  
  
“It is not something I often discuss with others, for there is no reason to. Now, will you eat dinner with me?”  
  
I agreed and we walked off toward the main house.  


* * * * *

  
  
Three hours later, with rain battering against the windows, I stood outside Elrond's study. Glorfindel squeezed my left shoulder and walked down the hallway to the Hall of Fire, leaving me alone in the dark corridor. Before I could knock, the door opened and Elrond, his expression grave, gestured for me to enter into the well-lit study.  
  
“Sit down, Maglor,” he said as he sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers together and resting his elbows on the surface.  
  
I closed the door behind me and did as directed, fighting the rising panic. “I… I'm sorry for the words I spoke in anger this afternoon.”  
  
“Forgiven. But the sentiment behind them is not. I must apologize myself for neglecting you. I had assumed-- wrongly-- that there would be those who would make an effort to talk to you. Glorfindel would have, had he not been so busy helping Erestor with the preparations for my trip to Lórien.” He smiled faintly. “I have not needed to travel with guards since I left Middle-earth, and it is not simply because you are traveling with me. Reactions against my help in bringing you here have been… varied.”   
  
“And you don't blame me?”  
  
“You needed to come home, Maglor. That is the only reason. Now, back to this afternoon.” All trace of compassion was now gone from his face, and I straightened just a bit more, suddenly reminded of Father when he had lectured me. “I understand the sentiments behind your words and actions. However, you cannot act rudely. I will not tolerate it from anyone. Furthermore,” he said, holding up a finger, silencing me before I could blurt out words in my defense, “others will be far less forgiving of you than I am. More than anyone else in Valinor, you are walking on a very narrow pass with a cliff on either side.  
  
“Maglor, as difficult as this is for me to do, I am ordering you to come to Lórien with me. We will be leaving in three days, and will be gone no longer than two weeks. I will not force you to do anything while we are there, not even talk to me if you do not wish. However, if the Maiar and Valar wish to discuss things with you, I am unable to stop them, though I believe they will respect your desires.”  
  
He leaned forward. “I know this transition is difficult for you, and that I have been less than helpful so far. That will change. If you need to talk to someone, come and find me. If I am unable to talk immediately, I will seek you out as soon as I am. Do you understand?”  
  
“I do, my lord, though I would prefer not to travel to Lórien.”  
  
He half-smiled and said, “There are many things I would prefer not to do, but must.”  
  
“Is there anything else, my lord?”  
  
“No.”  
  
I rose from the chair, unwilling to speak, bowed, and stepped into the gloomy corridor, the thunderstorm still raging. Now where to go? I was in no mood for music, so I ended up in one of the small parlors overlooking the ocean. I sat in a large cushioned chair by the window and watched the waves crash onto the beach, lit by random flashes of lightening. Did Elrond truly think time away from here would help? I half-smiled and placed a hand on the window’s cool glass. And why was he acting paternalistic toward me? It somewhat disconcerted me, and I could not tell if it was conscious or unconscious, given his position as my liege lord. Maybe it was the only way he knew how to bring me out of my shell, and hopefully he would stop once he realized I didn’t need a father.


	8. Chapter 7

Four days later, near sunset, we entered Lórien. I looked at the silver willows scattered among other trees-- that had changed-- but the sound of the nightingales hadn’t. Neither had the insects or the smell of well-cared-for plants. As before, I rode on the cart carrying our luggage and other things, although this time, I was the only one doing so and was therefore holding the reins and driving the horses. It allowed me to feel useful rather than just being relegated to sitting passively like a prisoner. And it meant I was trusted enough to have some responsibility, though it had to have been Elrond's decision. The five guards-- Glorfindel had stayed behind at the House-- relaxed once we passed the tall, silver gates. No Elf, no matter the grudge, would dare to start a fight in territory the Valar inhabited.  
  
After we dismounted, three Maiar met us. I suppressed a shiver when I saw them. They appeared human, and dressed as we were dressed, but there was something off, some repressed power that could only be sensed, not seen. Two climbed on the cart and drove it away, likely to unload the luggage and care for the horses. I stayed close to Elrond and didn't meet the eyes of the remaining Maia. I didn't need to see the hatred and the pity. She led us to a large clearing where a simple, single-story, wooden structure stood and then disappeared. I looked around, noting the orderly abundance of trees and flowering plants, and followed my liege lord and his current assistant Cularë indoors.  
  
The wooden building was separated into two separate chambers with a foyer between them, as well as a bathroom immediately opposite the entrance. I followed Lord Elrond into the chamber on the right while the guards went into the one on the left. I looked around our room, noting the table near a couch, along with four beds and two large desks. The peredhel turned to Cularë and gestured for him to sit on the low couch. He pulled a chair from a nearby desk and sat down before turning to face me.  
  
“Maglor, feel free to wander. You have no duties unless otherwise informed by myself or Culárë.”  
  
I bowed, letting him know I understood, and left the room. I went outside, wondering what to do next. I had no part in the negotiations that would be ongoing over the next week over fishing rights in the Ekkaia, a dispute that involved Elrond’s lands. I couldn't practise swordplay with the guards. I had brought two books-- one of which was the _Quenta_ \-- as well as several composition notebooks, but unless I found something else to occupy my time, I would run out of things to do swiftly. Furthermore, until the luggage arrived, my books were inaccessible. And I did not like being bored. Elrond knew that, so why did he bring me here?  
  
I looked around the clearing slowly darkening in the twilight. I couldn't help but note the differences in this twilight than the one brought about by the mingling of the Trees. Things were no longer tinted with a blend of silver and gold, but instead were shaded with grays and blues, as well as hints of silver and rose, as the hour passed. Most flowers were closing for the night, though some were opening, and a variety of buzzing insects began to appear. I slapped at a mosquito that landed on my arm, grimacing with annoyance. Even here, no one had been able to get rid of them, if the Valar would even allow it.  
  
I walked to ambled over to one side of the clearing and peered up at the large oak that towered over the rest, idly contemplating how to climb it. I glanced behind me and saw no one. I reached for the branch just above my head and swung myself up. By the time I was halfway up the tree, I no longer hid my grin. I hadn't climbed a tree for the sheer joy of it since I was a child. When I reached the topmost branch that was easily able to support my weight, I sat down and leaned against the trunk, enjoying the earthy smells of a healthy forest the light breeze brought me.  
  
I sang softly to myself as the stars appeared one by one, flickering in the clear, crisp air, joining the nightingales and other creatures. I noted the Valacirca still swinging in the North, and although I still felt a shiver of fear at the sight of the reminder of the Valar’s wrath and warning, the fact that I was actually _in_ Valinor helped mitigate it. Other familiar constellations soothed my nerves further, until I was able to lose myself in the song of the night: the trees moving in the slight breeze, the noises insects and birds made, the faint sounds of voices below me growing ever more quiet as the night drew on. Only when the moon had dipped toward the horizon did I climb down.  
  
To my surprise, a soft yellow glow came from the window in the room I had left. I slipped inside and Elrond looked up from braiding his hair for sleep to smile at me. Culare glanced up from a book when I shut the door.  
  
“I wondered when you would come in.” He grinned. “You have a leaf in your hair.”  
  
“I do not.”  
  
At that, Culárë snickered. “You do.”  
  
I rolled my eyes, but not before breaking into a grin myself. I lifted my bag off the nearest bed-- one of four in the room-- and headed into the bathroom. The first thing I did was disentangle the green leaf from my hair and laid it aside, wondering briefly if I should preserve it in recognition of my second chance, but decided to throw it away in the end. I didn’t need a physical reminder when I lived in one.  
  
After I emerged, I slipped under the covers of my bed and looked at the ceiling lit only by the faint light of the moon shining in the window. I had forgotten how peaceful Lórien was. So it was of no surprise when the next thing I knew, Elrond was standing at the foot of my bed, talking to Culárë.  
  
I groaned, but sat up, blinking in the sunlight streaming through the eastern window. I grabbed my bag and padded into the bathroom. After showering, dressing and running a comb through my wet hair, I emerged from the bathroom to find that the table had been set with plates and platters of food and drink. The guards were there, going over their duties with Elrond while they ate. I filled a plate with sections of citrus and an apple, as well as a piece of toast, and simply listened.  
  
“Now, the Mornedhil will…” he was saying, but I no longer noticed what he was saying once I heard that word: Dark Elves-- specifically the Refusers. The Avari. There were Avari in Valinor. I forced myself to finish my meal, thoughts racing. If they knew I had returned and dwelled in Elrond's House, then Elrond would be in serious diplomatic trouble. I had no doubts of their feelings about those whom they felt had dealings with Morgoth. Being in Valinor would change nothing, especially if they had faded or been slain.  
  
When it was clear Elrond was done speaking, I asked, “There are Mornedhil in Valinor?”  
  
Elrond nodded as he put a sausage on his plate. “They dwell away from the Valar, far to the south of the House.”  
  
“Are you aware of their feelings for those who they consider tainted by Morgoth?”  
  
“Of course,” he said, turning to me with a frown. “The Silvan Elves, as a general rule, do not hold to the beliefs of their kin who were further to the east in Middle-earth. But--”  
  
“One clan _branded_ me, Elrond!” I snapped. “They made sure I would find no rest among any of the tribes. They consider me tainted, and will not deal with me.”  
  
“They will deal with me.”  
  
“No, they won't. Not with my living in your House. You are contaminated by my presence.”  
  
The others in the room said nothing, watching the two of us. Culárë opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Elrond.   
  
“You have been pardoned.”  
  
“They don't care!” I put down my plate and started pacing. “You don't know them well, Elrond. You said that. Trust me-- they are far harder than you realize. They had no compunction about hurting me and then exiling me once they found out my story. It took them less than a day to do so. The only reason they let me keep the supplies they had given me was so they wouldn't be wasted. They would have been burned, for my having touched them.”  
  
“Branded?”  
  
I smiled nastily. “The scars faded millennia ago-- the metal wasn't hallowed. After all, those outcast from the clans were often killed within a few years, whether by orcs or Men or other Elves. It was nearly impossible to live alone in that territory. The only reason I managed to survive was that I fled to the south as soon as possible, to lands where the brands meant nothing.”  
  
No one said a word, and none met my eyes. Uncomfortable, I finally headed for the door, stopping when Elrond ordered me to, though I did not turn around. “How do you think they will treat me?”  
  
“I know not, for you are tainted by my presence, not your actions. It may account for nothing or it may cause the failure of these negotiations.”  
  
I strode out of the building, not looking back. Wanting a bit of peace and preferring to avoid further questions, I climbed the same tree that I had the night previous, and stayed there most of the day, only coming down when everyone had left for the negotiations. I spent the rest of the day indoors, working on a song, but I didn't bother to play it. I didn't need to hear it to know it was worthless. I retreated to the tree when I heard the group coming back down the main path, Elrond and Culárë arguing about something, though I couldn't understand the words.  
  
I stayed there through nightfall, even though the smell of the food rising from the dinner the Maiar made my mouth water. The argument seemed to have ended, but the meal was quiet. Only when the moon started rising did I climb down and head indoors. I’d had enough of solitude for one day. Plus, there was only so much avoidance for the sake of my mental health I could do before it appeared to be sulking.  
  
Elrond looked up from the papers strewn around him and said, “You were right. They are less than happy to talk with me, though they made it quite clear that only your presence in my House was affecting the progress of the negotiations. If these talks would have occurred even half a year ago, it would not be a problem.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow and said nothing as I sat down on my bed.  
  
“I am not sending you away, Maglor. Nor will I allow them to unduly affect the talks. But I am going to make it quite clear to them that you are welcome.” He looked me in the eyes. “I want you at the negotiations tomorrow, for that and your neutral political presence. You may very well see something that we have not.”  
  
“No.”  
  
He blinked and raised an eyebrow of his own. “That was not a request. That was an order, son of Fëanor.”  
  
“I am not going. I have no reason to be there, and no reason to humiliate myself. I am in Lórien because you ordered me to and for no other reason. I will not attend.”  
  
I stood up and strode to the door, yanking it open and into the foyer.  
  
From behind me, Elrond spoke, his voice cold, commanding me in my native Quenya instead of the modern Sindarin I used now, “Kanafinwë Makalaurë Fëanárion, _á tulë_.”  
  
I didn't even pause and stormed outside. Rather than retreat to the tree, I headed to the main path and turned right, intending to leave Lórien entirely. I wasn't given the chance.  
  
A loud crashing noise erupted from the brush on my right, but before I could dodge, someone tackled me. I landed hard on the ground, cracking something in my left arm. I was hauled to my feet and firmly restrained by the guard. Another one ran down the path and grabbed my right arm. I tried to pull away, but the pressure on my left arm caused me to hiss. From the amount of pain, I rather suspected I’d broken another bone. Neither guard loosened their grip, and I was forced to walk between them if I didn't want to be dragged.  
  
I was unceremoniously held in front of Lord Elrond once we were back in the building. He nodded at the guards, who released me and left the room, as did Culárë. Elrond himself, though, remained standing in front of me, the anger in his eyes flashing in an otherwise calm face. Once the door closed, he came closer to me, standing within an arm's length.  
  
“Do not make me involve the Valar, Fëanorion. They will be less than pleased that I am unable to control the worse of your impulses.” I nodded stiffly, unwilling to concede more than that. “You are my vassal, and I am treating you as one. I have given you liberties as my foster father that I must now revoke. You are to be with me, in this room, or in the presence of the Ainur.  
  
“I am responsible for your actions, Maglor. Any laws you may break, intentionally or not, reflect on me. You are here on sufferance. The Valar cannot force you to leave Valinor-- and they will not attempt to try-- but they can force you to do other things. They were merciful but that mercy can be revoked. After all, look what happened when they were merciful to Melkor.”  
  
The use of that name caused me to straighten, though I tried not to move my left arm to prevent the pain from overwhelming me. “How dare--”  
  
His laughter cut my protest short. “Dare to compare you to the Black Enemy? Or dare to call him by his name?” I looked down at the wooden floor, unsure. Gently, Elrond said, “Maglor, look at me.” I glanced upward. “I know you are upset, and not a little frightened. But you cannot rebel against authority because they order you to do something you would rather not. Your father--”  
  
“My father is dead.” Elrond rolled his eyes. “But, yes, my lord, I do understand.”  
  
“Then you will be there tomorrow.”  
  
“As you wish, my lord.”  
  
Elrond nodded, not happy but having to be satisfied with my acquiescence. I sat down on my bed while Elrond went to the door and let Culárë back in. Rather than look at the young Elf, I opened my bag and pulled out one of the books I had brought. But Elrond saw my wince as I moved my left arm.  
  
“Let me see,” he said, sitting down next to me.  
  
I sighed and rolled up the sleeve, bruises already forming. He carefully probed my injury, and then ordered me to remove my shirt. I did so, biting my tongue to keep from whimpering. Elrond resumed his examination, asking me precisely what happened. He motioned to his assistant. “Culárë, I need you to find one of the Maiar and tell whoever it you find that I need a wrap sling, some hard-duty splints, and a moderate painkiller.”  
  
The young Elf nodded and left the room. Elrond put my arm down and looked at me. “You fractured your humerus, and although you cannot have a cast due to the location, it does need to be immobilized.”  
  
I nodded, not wanting to do anything further to jar my arm. At least someone else was able to care for it, unlike previous times I’d broken bones and had to set them myself. Only a few minutes later, Culárë returned with the needed supplies, and stayed nearby in case Elrond needed his help. But the splint was swiftly put on, and my arm immobilized in a sling that wrapped around my waist and solidly held my arm against my torso. After it was in place, Elrond handed me a pill. I blinked but took it with my left hand. “You have pills here?”  
  
Elrond chuckled at the expression on my face. “We have progressed from herbal teas, Father. Take it, and I will get you a glass of water.”  
  
I dry-swallowed the pill and sipped the water when Elrond brought it to me. After he was satisfied I wasn't going to do anything, he gestured to Culárë and the two sat on the couch to discuss whatever had gone on during the meetings. I rolled my eyes and picked up the _Quenta_. May as well read what was written by my people about the events of the First Age.


	9. Chapter 8

I groaned in pain when I woke up the next morning. I sat up, brushed back my tousled hair back from my face with my good hand, and looked for Elrond. My shoulders slumped when I realized it was only Culárë in the room, but he was already coming to me, holding something in his hand and carrying a glass of water. I thanked him and took the painkiller, hoping it would start to work soon. He returned to where he had been working at his desk before he realized I had woken up. I smiled to myself, remembering the last time I had broken a bone, knowing I couldn't risk going to a hospital. Then, I had to make do with a bottle of ibuprofen.  
  
I was interrupted from contemplating how I was supposed to untangle the blankets with only one hand without falling over when Elrond walked through the open doorway, talking with one of the guards. He smiled when he saw me, and excused himself. He came over to me and took the sling off to examine my arm.  
  
“If you are careful, you should be able to remove the sling tomorrow. For now, you need to wear it.”  
  
“And if I want to shower?”  
  
“Use a washcloth. I do not want to redo the splints because you got the bandages wet.”  
  
I grimaced. “My hair?”  
  
He sighed and said, “I will help you wash it tomorrow. I do not have the time this morning.”  
  
I muttered, “So I'm supposed to go to this meeting looking like--”  
  
“You are not going.” At my astonished look, he said, “I would rather not have you in a position of weakness, especially if you think you will need to defend yourself. No, you may stay here.”  
  
I smiled at him, relaxing and saying, “Thank you,” even though it wasn’t enough to convey my relief.  
  
Elrond left the sling off so I could quickly wash myself, but he put it back on once I had dressed. It made eating rather awkward, so I ended sitting on the couch with the plate on one of its arms. One of the guards came over to me and apologized for breaking my arm. I accepted it, and made sure to mention to him that it was my fault for running away in the first place. Finally, the seven of them left the building and headed to the building deeper in the garden where the talks were being held.  
  
I paced around a little, wanting to go outside into the mild, sunny day, but knowing that Elrond had forbidden me from doing so. Although he probably wouldn't know if I did, I would not test his strained patience. So I picked up the _Quenta_ , sat back on the couch, and started reading about Father's trial after he threatened Uncle Fingolfin. It was difficult, not the least because with every word, I was coming closer to the Darkening and the foul Oath. At the same time, I was remembering it quite clearly: Father's humiliation and anger, the displeasure of the Valar when they discovered the root cause of the unrest, Uncle's attempt at peace, and much else. And then there was the bias against Father… Pengolodh had not liked the House of Fëanor.  
  
I had only read a few pages when someone knocked on the front door. I glared at the door, since I could see it from where I was seated. Probably someone who hadn't realized that Elrond had already left, and I was determined to ignore it. Whoever it was would figure it out soon enough. But the person knocked again. Annoyed by persistence of whomever rapped on the door, I tucked the leather bookmark back in, and levered myself off the couch. I shuffled to the door, not wanting to talk to anyone, even if it was only pleasantries. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, attempting to set a somewhat pleasant look on my face before I opened the door.  
  
Only to find Lord Irmo on the other side.  
  
I felt the blood drain out of my face and I involuntarily stepped back. Why was he here? No, never mind that, I knew why. But how had he found out about my attempt to leave his realm? I gulped, trying to regain my composure, and gestured the short but imposing Vala inside. I closed the door behind him and followed him into the room I had just left. He sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him.  
  
“Please sit down, Maglor.” When I made no move to do so, he said firmly, “Now.”  
  
I promptly did so, shoving my book out of the way. Rather than look at him, I stared at the floor. Lord Irmo sighed and I finally glanced up at him.  
  
“Maglor, you cannot run away from your troubles here. I know it saved your life on Middle-earth a multitude of times, but this is not Middle-earth.”  
  
I whispered, “I know. It's impossible for me to not know that.”  
  
“Then why are you so scared?”  
  
I looked down at my hand. “Everyone is watching me, hoping to catch me in a mistake that will get me imprisoned.”  
  
“Everyone?”  
  
I lifted my head and met his bright blue eyes. “Everyone. Including you, for how else could you know of the altercation and its aftermath?”  
  
Damn the Vala and his amused eyes. “It happened in Lórien. Do you truly expect me not to know what occurs in my domain?” At the look on my face, he sobered. “We do not have Maiar following you around, Maglor. We trust Elrond-- and we trust you to keep to the strictures. If we did not, you would be living in Valimar or on Taniquetil.”  
  
“Not Mandos?” I whispered, shocked.  
  
Lord Irmo shook his head. “My brother deals with the _dead_. Melkor was only imprisoned there so he could not escape. You would not be able to leave Valimar, for you are not one of the Ainur.”  
  
“Then why are you here?”  
  
“Because the Elder King asked me to make it clear to you that your actions are not acceptable. There is no cause-- yet-- to remove you from Elrond's House, but we will if need be.” His face lost a bit of its severity. “Maglor, people are willing to give you a chance given that we did not imprison you. If you betray that trust, you will never regain it.”  
  
“I will never gain anyone's trust.”  
  
“You have Elrond's. But we have lost the topic of conversation. Why are you so afraid?”  
  
“I cannot trust that no one will hurt me. While in Elrond's presence, I am safe enough. Outside of it, even on his lands, I am not. I fear that if I attend any of the meetings, aside from derailing them, that I will be harmed.”  
  
“That is not the whole.”  
  
I whispered, “I am not worthy to be here. I know my crimes have been pardoned, but not forgiven. Not by the Elves. And though you may be the rulers of this land, I do not interact with the Ainur on a daily basis. I have to live among those who despise me, who hate me, who think I should be in Mandos, who wish I had remained in Middle-earth. Valinor is not the blissful land it once was, and it never will be again. As Elrond said, I am walking along a narrow pass. One misstep and I will fall.”  
  
“Have you tried to talk to Elrond about this?”  
  
I half-smirked. “He didn't listen. He has a higher view of the Eldar than I do.”  
  
“Or he may know them better.” I met Irmo's eyes again, his expression having softened further. “He has, after all, only lived here for the past few thousand years.”  
  
I snorted, knowing he was right but not quite ready to admit it. After all, why trust my cynical view of Elven nature? I was just an Exile, a Kinslayer, and a Fëanorion.  
  
“Have you bothered to talk to others of Elrond's House?”  
  
“I tried,” I said quietly. “But they don't respond.”   
  
Irmo nodded. “Many will wait to see what you will do. Some will not. Your actions will speak louder than your words. Now, what do you plan on doing?”  
  
“Today? Or about the other Elves?”  
  
“The former. I cannot tell you what to do about the latter, as I am not an Elf.” He smiled and said dryly, “And we Valar do not have a good record in dealing with your House.”  
  
I stared at the Vala, biting back laughter. That was one of the greatest understatements I had ever heard. Finally, I replied, “Reading. I am unable to do much with my arm the way it is.”  
  
“I noticed,” he said, glancing at my bandaged arm. He then asked, “Do you have enough painkillers?” I shook my head. “I will have Olórin bring some to you.”  
  
He stood up and I did as well, bowing slightly and sincerely. “Thank you, my lord.”  
  
He smiled and left the building, closing the door behind him. I sank back onto the couch, stunned. I wasn't in serious trouble with the Valar over my behavior, but I had been warned. How many more chances would I be given? I knew better than to ask, since it would likely depend on the severity of the transgression. It seemed as if Lord Irmo took my concerns about my safety more seriously than did Elrond. But Elrond wasn't unconcerned. Was that why he had me come to Lórien? Was he truly that worried about my safety without his presence? Or was he trying to calm my fears? I ran the fingers of my good hand over the smooth cover of the _Quenta_. I did not know, and suspected he would not tell me if I asked.  
  
Only a few minutes later, a Maia clad in white appeared in front of me, holding a small glass bottle. He handed it to me, smiling. “Do you require anything else?”  
  
I shook my head, but then changed my mind. “I’m unable to open the window, and I’m forbidden to leave the building.”  
  
Olórin said, “Fresh air would be good.” Once he opened one, he turned back to me. “Do not be afraid of mercy, Maglor. It has been granted to you.”  
  
“I’m not afraid of it. Just what may happen if people change their minds.”  
  
“Ah. I cannot tell you ‘do not worry’, for that is a valid fear. But why doubt Elrond or the Ainur? We know what you did, and we chose to recieve you back nonetheless. You are truly welcome here, Maglor. Do not forget that.”  
  
Before I could say anything, he disappeared. I looked at the bottle and smiled. Now I wouldn't have to suffer if the painkiller I had been given that morning wore off before anyone returned. And both Lord Irmo and Olórin had given me much to think about.  


* * * * *

  
  
I ate a solitary lunch, but I didn't mind, enjoying the absence of others and the sounds of rustling leaves and birds singing coming through the open window. I returned to reading the _Quenta_ , forcing myself to read what was said about the Oath. Only after twilight fell did Elrond and the others return. I heard the guards clattering around in the other room, taking off their weapons and armor, while someone shut the bathroom door. When Elrond emerged from the bathroom, I stood up and took a few steps toward him. “I apologize for my earlier behavior.”  
  
He smiled with what appeared to be relief and gestured to the couch. “Apology accepted, Father. Now let me see that arm.”  
  
I sat back down. After he was satisfied with the progress of healing-- the bruises and swelling had disappeared-- he leaned against the cushion behind him.  
  
“That bad?”  
  
He snorted. “You will find out tomorrow.”  
  
I shakily breathed in. “Elrond, I can't.”  
  
“Yes, you can. No one will hurt you.”  
  
“But you can't keep an eye on me constantly. And the guards--”  
  
“Are there for show. One will be assigned to surreptitiously keep an eye on you.”  
  
I stood up and paced up and down the room, ignoring the curious look Culárë gave me when he sat down next to Elrond. I couldn't. I couldn't do this. I refused to become entangled in Valinoran politics only a few weeks after my arrival. I couldn't face the Avari. I couldn't face whoever else was going to be there. I couldn't. It was going to cause more trouble than Elrond could foresee.  
  
My foster son grabbed my shoulders, jerking me out of my racing thoughts.  
  
“Breathe.” I glared at him, but started taking deep breaths. Once he saw I had started calming, he led me to my bed and sat me down. “Maglor, I am not asking you to attend the talks themselves. I just want you nearby.”  
  
“Why? This isn't nearby enough?”  
  
Elrond shook his head, but then scrutinized me. He frowned and finally said, “This is not just a simple worry, is it?” I shook my head, unable to explain. Elrond rubbed his face with his left hand before turning to Culárë. “Would you please leave the room? Maglor and I need to talk in private.”  
  
The Elf immediately left, closing the door behind him, though I could hear him knocking on the guards' door. Once Elrond was certain we were alone, he sat next to me.  
  
I looked at him and said, “I don't know. One moment I'm fine, the next I'm not. I can't handle the thought of being around large groups of people, Elrond. Not now. Not this soon.” _Not ever_ , I thought to myself.   
  
Elrond sat back and studied me while I tried to calm my breathing once again. I finally stared at the floor, unable to look at him further. What was I doing? I had fought against Morgoth's hosts; I had lived a mostly solitary life for thousands of years; I had faced the Valar in my trial. So why should meeting a group of Elves be any different? But it was, not the least because I knew they could harm me in ways the Valar wouldn’t dare.  
  
“I cannot help you if you do not explain. But you do not have to come tomorrow. Feel free to wander around the clearing, but no farther. We _will_ work on this, Maglor. You cannot avoid people forever.”  
  
“I know,” I whispered, unable to do more.  
  
My foster son rose from the bed, placed a hand on my right shoulder for an instant before returning to the couch and the stack of paperwork on the floor next to it. I lay down and stared out the window at the stars, not really paying attention to Culárë when he returned to the room and started to discuss the day's work with Elrond. If I truly must attend the talks, I had to overcome my fears, though I knew it would take more than a few days to truly do so. That meant planning for both good and bad possibilities. At the very least, I could _act_ unafraid. It had worked in the past among Men, and maybe it would work now.


	10. Chapter 9

Four days later, my arm now fully healed, I walked behind Elrond on the mulch path to the meeting deeper in Irmo’s garden. We entered a clearing surrounded by willow trees where a small stone building sat amongst beeches and oaks, with flowers scattered here and there. The guards and I split off from Elrond and Cularë and walked to one of several small rings of seats and tables under the shade of a large willow. Rather than take a seat at a table, I sat under the tree and leaned against the silver trunk, placing a small bag on the grass next to me. Out of it, I pulled a pen and a composition notebook. Although I didn't have any particular music in mind to compose, I could always improvise something. And if I became tired of that, I could always read. Furthermore, having something in hand meant I could stare off into the distance, and few would think anything of it.  
  
Over the next half hour or so, the other groups participating in the talks came into the clearing, and the leaders always entered the stone building while the guards grouped themselves around the clearing, some sitting on chairs around the other tables. I didn't pay much attention to them, though I recognized the symbol on the Avarin armor. If they noticed me later on, I knew the meeting would not be pleasant. Though there were both curious and hostile looks directed my way from the other groups, I ignored them for the moment.  
  
However, once everyone settled in, the different groups started mingling. I wasn't surprised-- after nearly a week of these negotiations, the guards (whose function was mostly ceremonial to begin with) were friendly. I shook my head. Aman was an insular place. Few had any need to learn weaponry, and those who did-- or continued to act as warriors-- had to train with others also versed in combat, else they would become too complacent. The Avarin guards clearly knew those originally from Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien. Given that the Silvan Elves were Avarin themselves, just the most friendly with the Eldar, it wasn't surprising that these guards would be at ease with each another. From the way all the groups interacted, it was obvious that this was not the first time many of them had met. Those who looked uncertain were, as a rule, the youngest ones who evidently were here as part of their training. After all, what else were guards used for here?  
  
Rather than pay attention conversations to which I had no desire (or knowledge) to contribute to, I started writing down random notes, pretending to do something. And it worked-- save for a few looks, the guards left me alone. But as the morning drew on, I realized I had been writing down the ebb and flow of conversations. I paused and looked at the pages I had filled up. I hadn't done something like that for decades. But if it meant I was writing songs down again, I didn't mind at all.  
  
I allowed myself to become lost in the flow again, and only looked up when someone's shadow blocked my light. My guts clenched, but I forced myself to remain composed, not allowing myself to show any outward sign of fear when I recognized just who glared down at me. I wasn't going to give the Avarin king that satisfaction.  
  
He sneered and said in Sindarin, “So the Shadowed One has truly returned. Pity. We had hoped you suffered the death you deserved.”  
  
“Why didn't you kill me?”  
  
“It was not our place. Exile is the true torment.”  
  
The king looked me up and down. He spat on the grass before my feet and then walked away. I sank back against the tree trunk in relief, and raked my eyes around the clearing, searching for Elrond. He had to be around, hadn't he? I finally spotted him talking to a dark-haired Elf nearby, and he realized the situation almost as soon as I caught his eyes. He excused himself and came over to me. I stood up awkwardly and I bowed, murmuring, “My lord.”  
  
“Sit.” Elrond sat on the ground, so I did as well. “Did he threaten you?”  
  
“No. But even unspoken, the threat is there.”  
  
“It always will be.” He rubbed his temples. “You are safe enough here, but I think we will have to make arrangements when we return home.”  
  
“What kind of arrangements? Will I have any say in them?”  
  
Elrond looked at me. “I will not force anything on you, but you are the one who suggested that you are not safe in my own lands.”  
  
I picked at the blades of grass, focusing my eyes on the deep green color. “I do not want to be coddled, nor cause inconveniences.”  
  
“You will not. Now, do you want lunch?”  
  
I followed him to a table spread with food and drink underneath the oak across the clearing, ignoring the way two Avari moved away from it when they spotted me.  
  
Over the next week, some of the Sindarin guards began to talk to me, curious as to what life was like in Middle-earth. None of the Avari did, but I had expected that. After my encounter with the king, they completely ignored my existence. I found that preferable to the stares and muttered comments, as well as the occasional warding gesture. The guards Elrond had brought with slowly relaxed as well, drawing me into their conversations, and they started leaving me unguarded for short periods of time. We had never discussed that they were guarding me, and I knew that we never would.  
  
Still, I was glad to leave Lórien after the talks concluded with no firm result. Elrond wasn't displeased, in spite of the lack of a treaty, for there had been progress made. I wondered at that, and he laughed.  
  
“You are accustomed to mortals' politics and their haste, Maglor. This contention over fishing rights has been on ongoing issue for nearly half a _yén_.”  
  
I stared at the cart horse's dappled rump while I processed what Elrond had just said. Almost seventy-two years. Elrond was right-- I was too used to shortened, and generally shortsighted, politics of Men. Even when I was living there, I could not understand why our mortal kin thought it was a good idea to rotate their leaders once every few years. The difference in tempo here in Aman was yet another adjustment I had to make to my thinking that had been shaped from living in Middle-earth for so long.  
  
Once back at the House of the Sea-hills, I started home once Elrond dismissed me, desiring nothing but solitude. I had walked for less than two minutes down the path when Glorfindel caught up with me. I looked askance at him.  
  
“I don't need a keeper.”  
  
“No, but I thought I would see how you survived,” he said pleasantly, ignoring my glare.   
  
“Let’s see… I have a habit of running when I shouldn't and ended up with my arm broken. Lord Irmo lectured me, telling me much the same things you did, though I did find out the Valar trust me enough to put me here. I wrote some music that may not be completely terrible. Oh, and the Avari still despise me.”  
  
“This is going to take a while, I presume?” Glorfindel remarked, his mouth quirked in a grin.  
  
“Yes, it will take a while.” I shifted my bag to my other shoulder. “If there's still edible food in my house, I'd be willing to cook us dinner. And if there's not, would you be willing to cook?”  
  
“Done,” Glorfindel said.  
  
After a pleasant meal-- it hadn't taken long at all to adapt to the Elvish kitchen-- Glorfindel and I settled out in the hill-top courtyard on one of the benches to talk, him with a glass of wine and me with water, the sound of the ocean a pleasent background noise. The conversation meandered back and forth, from topic to topic, sometimes about my journey, sometimes about what happened here in my absence, sometimes about happenings in the rest of Aman, sometimes about inconsequential things.  
  
Once the sun had set and the stars had appeared, I finally asked, “What is being done in regards to my safety?”  
  
“I need to talk to Elrond. I have some ideas, but I do not know how practical they are.”  
  
I stared at the starlight glistening on the water below us, “Well, I'm tired of being afraid. But that won't change until I know more about how people will truly treat me. I don't know how much of my own fears I was reading into how people were reacting to me.”  
  
“Both more and less than you think. Lindir has been too afraid to converse with you, not because of the Kinslayings, but your musical acumen.”  
  
I stared at Glorfindel. Surely I had misheard him. Was I truly that legendary? He laughed in response to what must have been a dumbfounded look on my face.  
  
“Ah, Maglor. You were renowned as a singer long before the Darkening, and that never changed. Do you really think those in Aman stopped playing your songs just because you composed them? You know those in Beleriand did not, even with all the hard feelings against you.”  
  
“I know they didn't,” I said softly. “If they had, no one would remember the words to the _Noldolantë_ , much less care enough to sing it.”  
  
“And that is only your most famous work. Most of the others are still played.”  
  
“Please tell me the satires have been forgotten.”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
I put down my glass and buried my face in my hands. I could never show my face in Tirion, not that I had any desire to in the first place.  
  
“Things will be interesting again. You think that Elrond's family does not visit him?”  
  
I groaned and peered at the smirking Noldo through my fingers. “Finarfin doesn't like me, and half those satires mock him!”  
  
He chuckled and said, “I know. Let me put it this way: people still laugh at them, the king of the Noldor included. The Eldar do not hate you as much as you think, though you are just going to have to take my word for it for now. You have not met enough people, nor talked with them, to truly know.” He grinned. “Though there are a few who want to discuss things with you.”  
  
Suspicious, I straightened up. “What things?”  
  
“Pranks a certain peredhel played.”  
  
“I am not becoming involved in a such a thing. If Elrohir and his brother want to know, they can ask their father.”  
  
“I told Elrond you would say that, but he did not believe me.”  
  
“He's too paranoid.”  
  
“Says the Elf who refuses to leave his house.”  
  
“Two different things. Two entirely different things.”  
  
“I know. But Elrohir will be bothering you when you least expect it.”  
  
“Then I'm keeping my doors and windows locked.” At the look on Glorfindel's face, I rolled my eyes. “And that won't prevent anything, of course.”  
  
Glorfindel looked at the sky and put his empty glass down. “I will see you tomorrow, Maglor. My wife will be disappointed if I do not show up soon.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow and my glass. He laughed again and headed down the path. I spent a few more minutes outside, but collected his glass and returned indoors. After a few long days of travel, a good night's sleep was going to be wonderful.  


* * * * *

  
  
Three days later, I stood in Elrond's office, staring at the peredhel, aghast at what he had just told me.  
  
“It will not kill you,” he said evenly.  
  
“Elrond, you're the one who gave me that house! Why make me move in here if you wanted to give me privacy in the first place?”  
  
He rubbed his forehead. “I can think of no other guarantee of your safety than having you nearby. Glorfindel had no useful ideas. They predicated on a guard following you around, which he knows is unfeasible for multiple reasons, or they skirted the line of your strictures.”  
  
“Let me think about it, Elrond. There has to be another solution.”  
  
“I know. Trust me, I know.”  
  
I bowed and left his office. I went outside, trying to keep a calm expression on my face. I did not need to frighten anyone. When I reached the hollow just before the crest of the hill where my house was located, I heard a child scream and something come galloping toward me. I spun and instinctively dropped into a fighting stance. From the sound of it, the thing that approached me was friendly, but I wasn't taking any chances. From around the curve of the hill, coming from a group of three small houses set around a grassy courtyard, ran a large brown dog with a large black marking shaped like a saddle on its back. It bounded towards me, barking and tongue lolling, always just out of reach of the golden-haired child chasing it. Him, I revised as the dog spun left, dancing out of reach.  
  
I relaxed and started chuckling. Just a child and her dog playing. I resumed walking up the path, but the dog jumped in front of me. I stopped and the child finally caught up with the dog.  
  
“Bad doggie. Daddy said you have to stay with me.”  
  
The dog’s tail drooped, and I forcibly reminded myself that some of the creatures in the Blessed Realm were intelligent, especially my brother's hound Huan, who I suspected had been a Maia.  
  
Soft footsteps on the grass behind us made me whip around, but the man running up to us only had eyes for the one who had to be his daughter.  
  
“Ah, Lothluin, please don't run off like that again. Tirn will return when he wants.”  
  
He picked his daughter up and settled her against his hip. He turned to me, ignoring the dog who was now sitting politely in the middle of the path. “Please forgive my daughter, Maglor. She is a little excitable. Oh, my name is Tathar.”  
  
Nodding a greeting to him, I said, “It's no matter. I know how children can be, especially one her age.”  
  
“Yes, having five younger brothers must have been interesting.”  
  
I did not try to stifle my smile. “It was. I think Father must have been ready to disown us a few times.”  
  
He grinned in response and put down his daughter, who had started to wiggle. “Go home. Your mother wants your help with the cookies.” Her eyes lit up and she ran back the way she came. Turning to me, he said, “I must apologize for Tirn. He does not think he's grown up yet, even though he is nearly two.”  
  
“Is he yours?” I asked, studying the animal.  
  
“No, but I was keeping him here until I was sure his eye would heal.” I looked closer and realized his left eye was missing. I glanced up and Tathar continued. “He is a sheep dog, but something got in his eye and became infected. Rather than have it kill him, we removed it. He can no longer herd sheep, but he is still a guard dog and good with Lothluin. But we cannot keep him.”  
  
I studied the animal. He was definitely powerful, and quite fast and agile, judging by the way he had been playing with the child. “What and how much does he eat?”  
  
“Meat, some vegetables-- he likes green beans-- things like that. Why? Do you want him?”  
  
“Possibly. How is he as a guard?”  
  
“He is protective. It may take a few weeks, if not months, before he transfers that loyalty to you, but he will guard you and your house.”  
  
The glint in Tathar's eyes made me realize he knew exactly what I wasn't saying.   
  
“When can he come home with me?”  
  
“Tomorrow after breakfast. I want Lothluin to have a chance to say farewell, and I need to ask the kennel master.”  
  
“Thank you,” I said. “I… don’t really know what else to say. It means a lot that you’re doing this.”  
  
“Thanks is all that is required, Maglor.” Tathar whistled sharply and the dog-- Tirn-- jumped up and ran to him. The Sinda scratched him behind his upright ears, and the two of them returned to their home. Bemused, I watched Tirn galloping ahead of Tathar as they returned to the middle house of my three neighbors. What had I just agreed to? Furthermore, would Elrond approve? I was fairly sure that he hadn't expected the solution to my problem being a dog.


	11. Chapter 10

After breakfast and an hour learning the commands Tirn knew, I stood outside Elrond's study and nervously knocked on the door. I looked down at the large dog sitting calmly at my side on the end of a leather leash. Hopefully Elrond would agree that Tirn would be acceptable. When he opened the door, he smiled and then raised both his eyebrows at the sight of the dog.  
  
“Come in, Maglor.” To the dog, he said, “You had better behave.”  
  
I followed him in and the dog calmly lay down at my feet. “I think he's the solution.”  
  
Elrond rubbed his chin. “I think you may be right. If he is constantly with you, you will be less of a target. And he is no weapon, though he is fully capable of protecting you. If it does not work out, though, what are you going to do with--?”  
  
“Tirn. Keep him, of course. It'll be nice to have a companion who doesn't know or care about my past.”  
  
Elrond nodded. “Go see the kennel master about his needs. I do not anticipate a problem with you keeping him. But if he does follow you around, he has to be leashed whenever he is inside.”  
  
“Understandable. And thank you,” I added.  
  
After I left his office, I walked to the hill where I usually watched the sword practise because there was no lesson I needed to teach today. I sat on the grass and Tirn lay next to me, ears pricked at the sounds coming from the arena in front of us. I watched Glorfindel’s match until it was over, and then lay back and gazed at the clouds scuttling across the sky, listening to the birds and insects, as well as feeling the salt-laden breeze blowing lightly across the land, causing grasses and trees to whisper and creak.  
  
Shortly before noon, Glorfindel nudged my left foot with a boot. I opened my eyes, distracted from the music I was mentally composing, and smiled at him.  
  
“What’s with the dog?”  
  
I sat up and glanced over at the sleeping Tirn, who had shifted so his back was pressed against my side. When he felt me move, he immediately rolled over and whuffed at Glorfindel. I placed a hand on his back, and he relaxed. “This is Tirn, who we're hoping can be a guard dog.”  
  
Glorfindel grinned. “He would do better to keep more aware when he's asleep.”  
  
I laughed and took his hand so he could help me up. “I've only had him for a few hours, but I think he'll learn. He's already well-trained.”  
  
A bell pealed, muffled against the wind. “You able to handle lunch in the main hall?”  
  
I bit my lip, but agreed. There was absolutely no reason for me to avoid it, especially since I was nearby. I followed Glorfindel down the hill, keeping Tirn leashed and at my side. We joined the crowd of people streaming into the building and the dining hall. Due to the dog's presence, I stayed at the outside of the crowd, keeping him between the wall and me, ignoring the occassional odd look though no one commented about his presence. Glorfindel stayed at my side, and we sat down at one of the tables near the door. No one appeared to mind, and as I studied the room and the people in it, realized that unless there was a formal feast, people were free to sit where they wanted, save at the high table. I made Tirn lay under the table, out of the way. He placed his head on my left foot and seemed to go back to sleep.  
  
The people seated around Glorfindel and me didn't entirely ignore us, though Glorfindel's wife Nárë pretended to ignore him and focused much of her attention on me.  
  
“When do you intend on performing?” she asked after serving herself a bowl of beef soup.  
  
I stared at my plate. “I wasn't planning on it.”  
  
“You cannot live here and not sing. Think of it-- Lindir would be so disappointed.”  
  
Glorfindel said, “So would Elrond and those who have not had the oppurtunity to hear you. But if you are not ready, you are not ready,” he said, shooting a warning look at his wife.  
  
She said primly, “Well, it had better be before the End, that is all I can say.”  
  
I laughed and nearly dropped the serving spoon filled with corn. “It will be -- I can promise that much.”  
  
“Is Aman much like you remember?” Nárë asked.  
  
“It’s changed, in some respects more than others. There's far more people, for one. No one lived here during the Years of the Trees. And the light of the sun changes the colors of things subtly. It's less peaceful, though that may be a factor of people's reactions to me. Or it could simply be part of the aftereffects of the Darkening. I don't know.”  
  
I ignored the curious expressions the other Elves seated nearby gave me, preferring to concentrate on the couple. Finally, a silver-haired Noldo broke in. “Why do you have a dog? Did he decide to adopt you?”  
  
I replied, “He's my guard. Given that people have already threatened me, I refuse to be lax about my safety.”  
  
“Who? And, yes, I can understand the sentiment, but if the Valar pardoned you…”  
  
I shrugged and turned back to my food. “A Sinda who's a student at Elrond's school. That's all I know.”  
  
The man rolled his eyes, and Nárë studied me with a concerned expression on her face. Tirn shifted below me, digging his chin into my toes. I grunted and moved my foot. From the huff that came from beneath the table, I knew he didn't appreciate it.  
  
Glorfindel snickered. “What did you do to him?”  
  
I grumbled, “Stopped letting him use my foot as a pillow.”  
  
The silver-haired Noldo laughed. “My dog grumbles, too, when I annoy her somehow, but she is vocal in general.”  
  
That, thankfully, turned the conversation to less serious matters. After lunch, I decided to visit the kennels to seek out expert advice-- it had been far too long since I’d owned dogs. So I spent a couple hours following the master as she made her rounds, who explained the specifics of local dog care-- including how dogs of Tirn’s breed acted-- as she went.  


* * * * *

  
  
Three days later, after a quiet dinner at home, I walked to the beach with Tirn. I tossed several pieces of driftwood for him to retrieve before he decided that he fancied a swim. I groaned, not wanting to smell a wet dog for the rest of the night, but it was hopeless. I sat down on the sand behind the tide line and watched him mess around, occasionally bringing me sticks to throw.  
  
I heard sand squeaking under someone's bare feet and turned to face whoever it was. I was unsurprised to find the Sinda, this time wearing a forest green tunic, standing just a few feet from me, his two friends on either side. I ignored them after memorizing their features, hoping they'd take the hint, but the Sinda moved to stand before me, casting his shadow over my face.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“You to leave.”  
  
“That will not happen.”  
  
He took a step towards me, one hand curling into a fist. Making a fast decision, I whistled sharply. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tirn come charging out of the surf. His pounding paws caught the Sinda's attention and he shot the dog an incredulous glance. I scrambled to my feet and backed away, putting several yards between us. Tirn skidded to a halt directly in front of me, facing the Sinda, head lowered and hackles raised, growling softly.  
  
The Sinda paled and nodded towards his friends, who had not moved. They moved away slowly, never taking their eyes from the large black and tan dog. Only when they judged they were a safe distance away did they turn and start running. I knelt next to Tirn, who relaxed when I laid a hand on his left shoulder. “Good boy. That's a good dog.”  
  
He wagged his tail, spraying my back with water and sand. When I took my hand off his shoulder, he spun around, grabbed a small piece of driftwood, and went into a play bow just beyond my reach. I laughed and lunged for the stick, Elven reflexes meaning I grabbed the end of it. After a swift game of tug-of-war, I tossed the stick into the surf for him to retrieve.  
  
We only headed inside when the sun had set, though the sky was still a brilliant blue. Rather than deal with a wet and sandy dog, I made him stay outside while I filled a watering can and dumped it over him to get the worst of the sand off. It helped, as did my brushing. After I had dried him off as best as I could, we went inside. After he drank his fill, he collapsed at the foot of the couch, on top of my bare feet. I rolled my eyes, but didn't make him move. I wanted the contact. So I turned back to my book-- the last of the history texts I had borrowed from the library-- hoping to finish it before bed.


	12. Chapter 11

I woke up gasping, from a memory-nightmare of the time I’d nearly been arrested for witchcraft, which I’d escaped solely by speed and my faster reflexes. I rubbed my sweaty face and flung the covers off. The incident the night before must have triggered it. I made my way through the dark room and leaned against the cool window glass, staring out at the water until the sun rose. I could only hope this wasn’t a portent for the day.  
  
After a swift breakfast of eggs and a piece of toast, Tirn and I strolled to the small classroom in the main house where we helped teach about mortal culture. Once in the room, I unclipped the leash from Tirn's collar and told him to lie down and to stay in the corner. He snorted, but obeyed me. His ears remained pricked as the students came in, though his chin lay between his paws. One child immediately wanted to pet him, but his father caught him and led him to his desk. I sat down with the child, keeping him occupied by telling him stories while his parents talked to the teacher.  
  
No more than an hour later, I looked up from my discussion of wind instruments with a Sinda named Falas when I heard Erestor call my name. I excused myself and walked over to him. “Lord Elrond requires your presence, Maglor.”  
  
I gulped, signed “come” to Tirn, leashed him, and followed Erestor out of the room after bowing to the teacher. On our walk to the study, he didn't bother to talk to me, but I was content with my thoughts. I had no doubts what this meeting was about-- the Sinda who had nearly attacked me last night would have no compunctions about lying. Erestor knocked sharply on the wooden door and opened it after a few seconds.  
  
“Maglor Fëanorion, my lord,” he said, bowing and then leaving.  
  
I entered the room, closing the door after Tirn. I bowed to Lord Elrond and stood silently at attention. I ignored the presence of the Sinda and his two friends standing before Elrond's desk, only checking to make sure that my dog was between them and me.  
  
Lord Elrond softly spoke. “I will give each of you one chance to tell your side of the event. There will be no interruptions.” He stared each one of us in the eyes, mouth set in a thin line, hands flat on his desk. His gaze hardened when he glanced at me, and there was no smile in his eyes. The four of us hastily agreed and Elrond pointed a hand at the Sinda.  
  
He glanced back at me before steadily looking at Elrond. “My friends and I were walking along the beach near the last of the houses. I saw Maglor sitting on the sand and staring at the water and decided to introduce myself. I stepped in front of him, and he suddenly whistled, and that dog appeared between us, growling. I have no doubt that dog would have attacked us if we would not have left.”  
  
The two cronies told similar stories, but I had no doubt that they had been rehearsed. Just enough of the truth had been left out, and the trouble was, their tale sounded reasonable. Elrond looked at me, face composed and not letting any of his feelings show. I told him what happened, including the fact that they had threatened me before. Of course, the others denied it. And I knew that it was my word against theirs. Three against one, and the one being generally considered untrustworthy in the first place.  
  
Elrond frowned and said to the Sinda, “Would Maglor have felt threatened in any way by your presence on the shore?” The Sinda shook his head, an expression of mild confusion on his face. “Did the dog make any move to attack you, or did he just threaten?”  
  
“No, my lord. The dog just stood between us and growled.”  
  
“I thought you were immediately in front of Maglor. Where was there room for Tirn?”  
  
The Sinda blinked and said, “Maglor had stood up and backed away from us.”  
  
“You said that he had remained seated through the entire event.” The three paled and Elrond's lips thinned. “Tell me the truth.”  
  
The Sinda, nervously eyeing Tirn over his shoulder, finally did so. Elrond thanked me for coming. Knowing it was a dismissal, I left the room and closed the door. I let out a deep breath and leaned against the wall. Stupid. But at least they would stop harassing me, though others would probably take their places. I straightened up and returned to the classroom.

* * * * *

  
Two days later, I learned what happened to the Sinda and his friends. The former had been expelled from the school and sent home and the latter, who had been raised in this house, were now working in the forge at only the most basic tasks. Their story had unfortunately spread faster than the truth, and there were those who flinched whenever they saw Tirn. Some of them made an effort to talk to me, especially about the incident. A few, of course, just wanted to talk to the infamous Maglor and his infamous dog. But more people, once they found that I was simply afraid, started making an effort to talk to me.

* * * * *

  
“That was not something you had anticipated, was it?” Glorfindel asked one evening, peering at the light shining through his red wine.  
  
“No,” I responded, closing the door after I shooed my beggar of a dog outside.  
  
“Are you going to play for us after we eat?”  
  
I rolled my eyes, but agreed. They’d been after me to do so long enough. “It will be extremely traditional, I warn you, or heavily influenced by Men.”  
  
“It does not matter, Maglor,” she said, putting rice into a pan of meat, vegetables, and stock simmering on the stove. “I am just grateful that you'll play something. I am not terribly good at music, and Glorfindel would rather paint.”  
  
I turned to him, eyebrow raised. He pointed to the painting of a quiet seashore just before dawn on the bathroom wall.  
  
“I did that one, about two hundred years ago. I like to think I have improved.”  
  
“It's better than any I've done,” I muttered. “My talents lie in writing, not crafting.”   
  
Glorfindel just shook his head. “I have not had the time to paint recently--”  
  
“Too busy trying to help me adjust?” I asked, trying hard to hide the bitterness.  
  
“Among other things. Maglor, I have come to appreciate the time I spend with you. You are not a chore, or an assignment, or whatever else you are thinking. You are a _friend_.”  
  
I stared at him and whispered, “Even with what I've done?”  
  
“Even with what you have done,” he replied just as quietly.  
  
I ducked my head, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Why?”  
  
“Because you are more than your actions, just as I am. People tend to only see one or two facets of someone, ignoring the whole. And I refuse to do that if I can.”  
  
I thanked him and remained silent until our food was ready. Glorfindel was right. I had to remember that. I could only hope it would help.  
  
Several hours later, after a short performance that degenerated into much laughter and not much playing, partly due to the music I was playing but mostly because of our good moods, the couple left with a promise that it would be I who next cooked. I closed and locked the door after them, sitting down with the packet of letters Glorfindel had given me when he had arrived, Tirn settling down at my feet.  
  
I grimaced, putting the bundle on my lap. I did not want to read them, because they were from my family. The letter on top was in Narmincë's handwriting, and I knew that this letter would determine whether I’d be able to even talk to her. The others… the others were from my extended family, and those frightened me more than anything, for they would determine how I would be accepted outside Elrond's House. Mother had not written. I finally moved to the table, placing the stack before me, staring at the one from my wife. After so long, had she come to terms with what I had done? Or was she simply informing me that she wished to live apart for the rest of time? I sighed. I had always hoped that she’d welcome me back, but I knew that it was questionable, especially because I had not yet made any effort, not wanting to intrude where I may not be welcome. But there was only one way to find out: I opened the letter.  
  
 _Dearest Makalaurë,_  
  
I blinked, rereading the greeting. She had called me dearest. I hadn’t expected that.  
  
 _I confess that writing a letter as my first greeting to you after Ages of separation is not what I had hoped to do. But when Elrond-- before he left Aman for the first time-- told me that he was looking for you, I rejoiced. It had long been my hope that the Valar would allow you to return, though I never asked them and nor did they inform me.  
  
Much of this hope was kindled because of your foster son, even when he explained to me the circumstances behind the fostering. Of course, I already knew the information due to Elwing and Eärendil, but I think it helped him to talk to someone who viewed you more sympathetically. We became friends over time, and I occasionally visit.  
  
But when he so informed me that he wanted to bring you home, I knew that greeting you would be one of the worst things possible. I knew you'd be confused-- sometimes, the changes Valinor has gone through have confused me, and continue to do so. I also knew that you would prefer to adjust in relative peace, and should not have to adjust to living with another person again, especially if that person was your wife.  
  
So I write this letter in hope that you will not reject me, and that our long separation has not completely estranged us. Write me if you desire, for we have much to discuss. I love you, Makalaurë, and I always will.  
  
Narmincë_  
  
I put the letter on the table and stared at it, hardly breathing. She didn't hate me. That was a start. Hell, it was more than one. She said she still loved me. I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes and remembering her. Her kisses, her laughter, her body, her debating with me over the most trivial of matters, her nagging to get me ready for my rare appearances at court as anything other than a musician, her support of almost everything I had done. Almost everything save the Oath and the consequences of it. That sobered me, and I reopened my eyes. I had to respond, but I would be cautious. There were many things that I didn’t feel comfortable committing to letters that could be read en route to the recipient-- and not all of them had to do with the mistakes in my past.  
  
I folded the letter, and put it to the right of the packet. I slipped another one off it, this one from Finarfin. I stared at the seal more reminiscent of flowers instead of flames and opened the letter.  
  
 _Maglor,  
  
Welcome home. I trust you will not be so rash again?_  
  
I rubbed my forehead with my free hand. Did he have to remind me of those events, or phrase it in such a manner?  
  
 _Speaking as your king-- and yes, I am king even though both Father and Fingolfin have been reborn-- I expect you to attend this new year’s celebration at my house in Tirion. I do not need to see you before then, but will if you so desire.  
  
Finarfin _  
  
The new year was more than half a year away. I could handle a short visit. I reached down and rubbed one of Tirn's ears. I had to, for Elrond’s sake.  
  
I swiftly read through the rest of the letters, most generally positive and short, none with weighty news. But then, why would they write of things of such import? I was an unknown quantity at this point, and probably the cause of much of the trouble the kings were dealing with. Furthermore, what experience did I have to deal with politics now? I was no longer anyone of importance. Valinor had moved on. I went upstairs, retrieved some paper and a pen, and sat down to write my responses.  
  
 _Dearest Narmincë,  
  
I will write, but you are correct that I should be focused on adjusting to life here. Thank you so much for that.  
  
Forget the above formality. I find that I am having trouble finding the words-- cherish the thought-- to write what I want to say. Know that I am incredibly grateful that you still love me, even with my flaws and… actions. That your thoughtfulness in letting me adjust alone means that adjusting to living with you will hopefully be easier.  
  
Yes, we do have much to discuss, but some of it I will not commit to letters. Mostly, I’ve been adjusting, learning my place here, and making friends. Glorfindel, for one-- I would never have anticipated that. Furthermore, I have a dog, who is both guard and companion.  
  
I _ am _glad to be in Aman, Narmincë. Life in Middle-earth was fascinating, endlessly changing, and lonely. You… the knowledge you were still alive when so many of my family weren’t was sometimes all that kept me grounded. Knowing that you still care for me-- I’m sure I could play something to show you how I feel, but writing? It’s near impossible.  
  
I am a bit glad that you have chosen not to meet me yet. When a leader of a House must take guards for reason beyond ceremony, I’m not sure it would be safe for you to travel for the express purpose of meeting me. This is also not how I had hoped to reunite with you, but it is probably for the best given the circumstances.  
  
Eternally yours,  
  
Makalaurë_  
  
I folded it and placed it to the side, grabbing another blank sheet of paper.  
  
 _Uncle,_  
  
As you order, I shall be present at the new year. Do not look for me before then. Yes, I have learned my lesson. I hope that we will not dwell on the past.  
  
Maglor  
  
I folded that one as well and studied the small stack of letters I still had to answer. Even though all of them could be answered with what mortals would call a form letter, I personalized them with tidbits of daily life here. Once done, I stared at my responses, hardly able to believe that so many had even been willing to open up to even that small amount of dialogue. At least I had replied, leaving me unable to be accused of rudeness. I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated at the politics that I was forced to play, no matter that I preferred to not think or respond to them. Rather than brood, I brushed Tirn, letting the repetitive motion calm me.


	13. Chapter 12

Over the next few months, things started settling down as I adjusted to the slow-paced life in Valinor. Life in Middle-earth had been-- especially in the past century-- faster paced. Glorfindel introduced me to Lindir, who forced me into the musical life of the House. He and his friends understood that I wanted to learn more before I would perform, and though a few of my questions were laughed at, my knowledge of the musical history of Valinor grew. It amazed me that the ballad was still popular, and many considered the longer the better. I liked the shorter forms mortals employed, and appreciated the challenge to be succinct. Finally, a couple weeks before _enderi_ , Lindir asked if I was going to perform.  
  
I ignored the sudden silence in the small chamber and then the chatter that resumed when I agreed. I looked down at my hands, knowing that, for better or worse, I had committed myself, even though I didn't know what I'd be playing. Soon after, I made my excuses and left the other musicians. I wandered the main house, Tirn as ever at my side. I ended up in one of the small rooms overlooking the water, where I stood and watched the waves flow in and out.  
  
A quiet knock on the door frame broke the silence. I smiled at Elrond, and he took that as an invitation to enter, closing the door behind him. Tirn greeted him, but Elrond kneed him aside and joined me at the window. He said nothing for a few minutes, surreptitiously studying me out of the corner of his eye.   
  
“Elrohir said that you were wandering, looking pensive and not a little worried.”  
  
“Can I not think in peace?” Before he could respond, I said, “I agreed to perform at _enderi_ , and I do not know what to perform. The _Noldolantë_ is hardly appropriate.”  
  
Elrond laughed and clasped his hands behind his back. “That is far from the only song you know how to sing.”  
  
“I would rather try something new.”  
  
“You have the time to write a song.”  
  
“Elrond,” I sighed. “Time is one thing; inspiration is another.”  
  
“Do you not keep a list of ideas?”  
  
I ran my hands through my hair, and only barely managed to keep from pacing in frustration. “None I desire to work on. I don't know what I was thinking.” I walked away from the window and sat on the floor next to Tirn, running a hand along his fur. “I may as well sing something I already know. People will be glad enough I'm finally performing to care too much that I did not compose it.”  
  
Elrond turned to face me, leaning against the window and arms crossed in front of his chest. “What about something that you celebrated in Middle-earth?”  
  
“Why would anyone care? I don't want it to be about me.”  
  
“Then what about the Ringbearers? Bilbo and Frodo's birthday is occurring during _enderi_ this year.”  
  
“I didn't know them. Besides, there are songs enough.”  
  
“There can never be enough. If you are worried about inaccuracies, I will gladly correct the lyrics.”  
  
I looked up at my foster son, silhouetted against the light shining in through the windows. “Give me a week. I should have both the basic melody and the lyrics by then.”  
  
Rather than chitchat, I left the room and went to the library to begin researching. If Elrond hadn’t glossed over the truth-- and I trusted he hadn’t-- this would be how I repaid Frodo for his faith in me. I could do no less.  


* * * * *

  
  
One week later, after having spent all of my free time researching and writing the song, I knocked on the door of Elrond's study, only to have Erestor poke his head out of his study a couple doors down and tell me he was in a meeting with Glorfindel and the other captains at the armory. I thanked him and retreated down the hallway.  
  
“Maglor, what do you need him for?” Erestor called out.  
  
I turned around. “He agreed to help me with something. I'll come by later.”  
  
He studied me for a moment. “He should return in less than an hour.”  
  
I nodded my thanks and headed outside. Unwilling to let Tirn become filthy after the bath I had given him this morning, I didn't let him off the leash. Instead, I wandered the stone paths in the garden next to the house, not really looking at the flowering plants, going over the lyrics in my head and trying not to second-guess them. I eventually sat on a bench in a small alcove overlooking some rosebushes and the ocean beyond. Tirn settled happily at my feet and proceeded to stare at the flying insects, snapping at the ones that came too close to him. I rubbed his head and finally leaned forward, elbows on my knees.  
  
I couldn't help but think how ordinary it looked, like something from Middle-earth. But it was Valinor, and I couldn't help but be reminded of everything I had lost, both in the First Age and after. Respect, hope, love, stability-- all things that I had either slowly regained or still had yet to. But I knew now that my life on Middle-earth had become untenable. I was simply too different from Men, and cut off from anyone who could understand what it meant to live for millennia. No matter that I was stubborn enough not to fade, and that I took to take delight in the new inventions of Men, my alienation had been inevitable. Elrond had seen that immediately. It truly was thanks to him that I was even here at all.  
  
I rose and waited for Tirn to stretch before heading back inside. This time, Elrond answered my knock and gestured me into his study with a smile. After he read the lyrics, he put the papers down on his desk.  
  
“I had forgotten how much effort you put into your songs. This is good, Father, very good.”  
  
I sank back into my chair in relief. “So there are no mistakes?”  
  
“None. I think the Ringbearers would be proud to have you sing this. I know Frodo wished there was a way for you to return home.”   
  
“I wish I could thank him.”  
  
“So do I,” he said with a soft smile. “I think you two would have understood each other. Now, about _enderi_ \-- you should know that my parents will be arriving tomorrow.”  
  
I felt the blood drain from my face and was quite glad I was sitting down. Tirn sat up and placed his head on my lap. I automatically reached out and stroked it, while staring at Elrond. “Your parents… I do not think I can face them, Elrond.”  
  
“Eärendil desires to meet with you, Father.”  
  
“After _enderi_. Not before the performance. I need to work on the song.”  
  
“As you wish. They will be staying for several weeks.”  
  
There was no way for me to avoid them, then. If they were only staying for the midyear celebration, it would have been difficult but possible. Now, I knew Eärendil would seek me out, and his son would order me to meet with him if need be. “Elwing?”  
  
“She has written nothing about meeting you.”  
  
“Ah.” I felt a weight settle in my stomach, and I knew it wouldn’t disappear until after the meeting. Far too soon into my new life here, I’d have to meet two of the people I’d hoped would be able to avoid. I was not looking forward to it. Neither of us spoke, but the weight of Elwing's silence loomed between us, so I asked to be excused. I gathered up my papers and returned to my house, Tirn running ahead of me, chasing the occasional sea gull that flew overhead. Once back inside, with Tirn ensconced on the balcony, I sat down at my desk, manuscripts spread out before me. But I wasn't seeing them-- my thoughts were focused on a day Ages ago: the day Elrond and Elros became my foster sons.  
  
 _Smoke tickled my nose and wafted across the street from a burning building, limiting visibility. I ignored it, running to Elwing's house. I slew those who fought against me, though unlike some, I refused to chase those who ran. My goal was simple: take the Silmaril and end the bloodshed as swiftly as possible._  
  
But the door was open and the small house where Eärendil's family lived was empty when I reached it, and a flash of red hair at the end of the docks caught my attention. I raced towards Maedhros and stepped foot on the wooden planks just as Elwing leapt into the Sea, the Silmaril at her breast. I froze in shock and spun around when I heard two children cry out from where they were hidden in a pile of nets and rope. I sheathed my sword and slowly walked to the children of Eärendil. I crouched down and looked at the young twins. I ignored Maedhros, who walked to the end of the dock, staring out at the white bird with a Silmaril on her breast.  
  
I moved out of the children's line of sight and pointed her out to them in a gentle voice, “See-- your mother lives still. But you have no one to take care of you now. Will you come with me?”  
  
They looked at each other, wariness in every line of their bodies, and finally one relaxed. He rose and helped his brother disentangle himself from the nets. Once clear of them-- one brother in a dark blue tunic, the other in forest green-- the three of us stood looking at each other. I knelt down and opened my arms, knowing that they could very well run because of the blood splattered across my armor. They hung back, but finally crept into my arms. I held them, feeling them silently cry.  
  
“Makalaurë?” I tilted my face upwards to study my older brother, knowing why he was speaking Quenya at such a time. “We need to leave. Bring the children with you-- we may be able to use them as hostages.”  
  
Responding in the same language, I said, “And if they are useless as such?”  
  
Maitimo paused. “Then I wish you joy in fatherhood.”  
  
I watched him stride off, calling away those troops that had remained loyal to us, for not all had. I picked up the children, settling them as best as I could, though I knew my armor was far from comfortable, and followed my brother out of the burning town.  
  
I buried my face in my hands, and shoved the papers away before my tears could smear the ink. I’d torn apart a family, ruined hundreds of lives, killed-- and now the father of the children I had raised due to those actions wished to speak with me. I would not deny that my family's actions may have had a part to play in Elros' choosing mortality, and that Elrond had known sorrow at a time of his life when he should have only known joy. I knew the blame did not rest entirely on me-- Elwing herself shared some of it-- but much did.  
  
I walked onto the balcony, momentarily disturbing Tirn's intense focus on the sea birds flying around. Facing the sea, I sat on the railing, listening to the waves crashing. What was I doing here? How could I pretend to myself that everything would be fine when things clearly weren’t? How could I have imagined I would be forgiven easily? That Narmincë wished to communicate with me and eventually see me was something I had wished for desperately, and barely dared to dream about. Sometimes, knowing she was alive and relatively unaffected by the war in Beleriand and other places across Middle-earth, was the one thing that had enabled me to survive. It had been my hope that she would want me, and letters were the start, though hopefully not the end. I had been here for nearly two months, and other than her and Finarfin-- who probably wished to see me for official reasons only-- no one else beside those in the House had made any effort to contact me. None of my friends from Beleriand, or from Tirion, or-- though I could understand why-- from Alqualondë. No matter Elrond's thoughts, I was an outcast and I always would be.  
  
So why did Eärendil wish to see me? To berate me? To thank me? Something else? A mixture? I wouldn't know for another week and a half, for I would avoid Elrond's parents until then. I shook my head and glanced at Tirn when he woofed. I glanced around, but there was nothing of importance I could see or hear, so ignored it. Why had I asked Elrond to schedule the meeting for after my performance? Why not before? I was going to be nervous enough, and now I had this to worry about as well. But this was going to be my first performance since my exile-- I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on being coherent at the meeting. I groaned. There was no way out of this cycle.  
  
Swinging off the railing and landing on the balcony, I said to my shepherd, “Let's go to the beach.”  
  
He immediately scrambled inside and down the stairs. I laughed and locked the balcony door behind me. Once outside, Tirn joyfully galloped down the trail and splashed into the water. I laughed at the sight of the overgrown puppy galavanting in the surf and settled myself on the sand to watch until he wanted to play with me. He was a wonderful distraction from the news Elrond had given to me.


	14. Chapter 13

One week later, I stared at the blue formal blue tunic lying on my bed. I had forgotten how much I hated the things, especially if they were heavily embroidered. Too much and it was hard for me to move, and I was never one for ostentatious displays. Thankfully, this one wasn't-- only a small pattern worked in silver thread along the hems-- because I hadn't let the seamstress do any more than that. I resigned myself to wearing the stiff garment and slipped it on, settling it against the thin undertunic. I brushed some tan dog hair off the black trousers. Tirn was definitely staying here tonight.  
  
I stepped out of my sleeping area into the larger room, quickly checking the clock to make sure I wasn't running late. It was still early, so much so that it would be ridiculous for me to leave now. I sat down at my desk and looked over the music once again, even though I had memorized it days ago. At last, it was time for me to leave. I slipped my boots on, locked Tirn on the house, and headed down the path. I studiously didn't think of my upcoming performance, but was growing more and more nervous about the feast preceding it. There, for the first time, I would be seen by people who didn’t live in the House. People had at least grown used to seeing me, but I could not anticipate all the reactions of the guests. Especially the two I would have preferred to not meet…  
  
As I approached the main house, more and more people dressed in their best garments walked along the path, and not a few greeted me. From some of the conversations I overheard, I knew that some were wondering what I would be singing-- for that had been spread the day I agreed to do so-- but only Elrond and I knew. I hadn't even told Glorfindel the one time we had been able to talk this past week.  
  
Because I was too nervous to speak to others, I proceeded to the dining hall, where I was led to a place setting as far as possible from the table where Elrond presided. It didn't bother me-- I had expected to be seated in such a spot and would have been extremely uncomfortable at any other place. People would have to strain to stare at me, save if they were seated at the high table. And it let me have a bit of space, given there was only a thin aisle between me and the wall. No one could approach me without my knowing.  
  
I wasn't the only one who was seated at this point-- the hall was about half full. I spent the time looking at the various colorful outfits, knowing I stood out through the sheer simplicity of my outfit, but I didn't care. This wasn't the court in Tirion, and I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I tried to avoid the stares of the guests, but most people were polite enough to nod in greeting when I acknowledged them. Elrohir waved at me in greeting before making his way to the high table-- the room was growing too crowded for him to do anything else.  
  
When all were seated and the room was full, the feast began after Lord Elrond spoke a simple welcome. I ignored the high table after that, not wanting to accidentally meet his parents' eyes. Furthermore, though the people seated around me were perfectly pleasant and the food delicious, I hardly ate anything compared to them, only a bowl of soup and a slice of bread. I hadn't been this nervous about a performance since I was a child. Finally, the interminable feast ended, and the lord and lady of the House led us to the Hall of Fire. I was one of the last into the room to leave, but I made my way through the crowd to the small alcove were the musicians were gathering. I sank onto a padded bench and listened to the murmurs of the crowd as they settled in. Lindir smiled at me while tuning his harp. I smiled back and started running my song through my head one final time. It would not do to forget it now.  
  
“Are you sure about the order?” a woman holding something like a saxophone asked me.  
  
“I'm certain. If I perform first, I’d leave immediately after.”  
  
She grinned. “We would not let you. Where is your violin?”  
  
“Home, of course. I wasn't planning on playing.”  
  
Lindir broke in, “There is probably one around here that you can borrow. You will be playing dance tunes, because some of us would rather not be chained to our instruments all night!”  
  
I laughed but agreed. Fair enough, though I knew that I would be returning home long before many so I could avoid certain people. Elrond signaled to the first group of musicians, and the festivities began. I remained where I was, as did several other singers, while the first group of musicians started playing dance tunes. I listened intensely, not having heard the cadences and embellishments before. The first set came to an end, and Lindir stepped in front of the group and started to sing. I grimaced, knowing that after he was finished, I would be the one standing in front of the crowd.  
  
Guts clenching, I slipped out of the alcove and made my way to Lindir's location. Once the final song was halfway through, I moved forward, careful to stay in the shadows as he had done, until the song was over. Only then did I step in front of the musicians. The hall went silent, few people even daring to fidget.  
  
I glanced at the crowd before deciding to focus my gaze on no one in particular, staring at one of the carven pillars forming the doorway into the room. I took several deep breaths, slowly letting them out, and began to sing.  
  
I lost myself in the lyrics, counting beats with a barely tapping foot, because I had no instrumental accompaniment. The melody was simple at first, but became increasingly complex as I continued singing about Frodo and Sam’s trials. By the climax, I was singing at the full extent of my range. I ended the song softly, evoking the supposed peace of the Undying Lands.  
  
Once the song was over, the room was silent, causing me to hold my breath for a fear-filled moment and then a wave of applause burst forth. I bowed and slipped back into the shadows. Once back in the alcove, I sank onto the bench I had vacated just minutes before and sat there, hands hanging loosely between my knees. I had expected polite applause from who didn’t know me, not open admiration. Even Eärendil had had a smile on his face, though Elwing did not. Someone broke into my thoughts and handed me a cup of wine, which I gratefully took, and slowly sipped it, regaining my composure.  
  
Either that, or they were stunned I could still sing as well as I once had. I grinned wryly. I hadn't let my skills decay in Middle-earth-- singing was often the only way I supported myself. But from the looks of respect that even the musicians gave me, I knew that I couldn't shortchange myself. My musical skills were obviously still appreciated.  
  
Once Lindir saw that I had relaxed, he thrust a violin into my hands and requested that I take his place among the musicians. Thanks to my growing friendships with the others with whom I performed, they knew exactly what music I did and did not know. After two sets, a woman relieved me and Celebrían pulled me onto the dance floor despite my protests. Once she released me, I thanked her and retreated to the musicians' alcove.  
  
I ended up playing four more sets before heading home. Due to the increasing levels of drunkenness, I was far from the only one who was doing so, though it was mostly families with children. Most of the people whom I passed called out congratulations to me, and I acknowledged them with a wave, too worn out to do anything else. Once home, I took Tirn out for a short walk and then went to bed, managing to fall asleep rather than run the performance over and over in my mind’s eye.  


* * * * *

  
  
Two days later, I stood in front of Elrond's study, fighting the urge to run and nervously rubbing one of Tirn's ears as he calmly sat next to me. I took a deep breath and knocked. Elrond immediately pulled it open, a sympathetic smile on his face.  
  
“I wondered how long you would stand there.”  
  
“Forever, but I figured your patience would eventually disappear.”  
  
He laughed and opened the door wider in welcome. “Come in then,” he said, closing the door behind me. I sat down in my accustomed spot, a wooden chair near the desk, but Elrond surprised me by sitting in the one next to me. Tirn settled on my feet and began to lick a foreleg. I looked down at him, not wanting to meet my foster son's eyes.  
  
“Maglor, you do not have to do this.”  
  
“Yes, I do. If your sire is willing to talk to me, then I cannot forgo that opportunity. Too much rides on how he reacts, for I know that no matter what happens, things from our conversation will not remain private.” I met Elrond's eyes. “I need this, Elrond, if only to apologize.”  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning forward. I nodded. “Then you should be aware that my mother will not be there. She still has problems with your family--”  
  
“Most of Valinor does, Elrond. I can hardly expect one who I wronged so grievously to be any different.”  
  
“Elwing understands. She does not want to relive the memories that will be brought up by this conversation. She may talk to you eventually; she may not.”  
  
“Like my mother,” I sighed. “I know why I have to prove myself over and over, but I'm already tired of it.”  
  
“Talking with Eärendil should help. I know for certain that he and Tuor were rather tired of discussing Middle-earth by the time the Host of Valinor left for Beleriand.”  
  
“Strategic knowledge is one thing; my actions are another. I deserve to be forever imprisoned in Mandos, Elrond. It is a mercy that I am not.”   
  
Elrond leaned back in his chair. “On the contrary, Maglor. The time you spent on Middle-earth was spent in reflection and redress. Your father and your brothers are paying that penance in Mandos. No, your punishment is far different, and in many ways far more difficult. Your punishment is to live.”  
  
I sank down in my seat as much as possible. To live? _That_ was my punishment? I was tempted to laugh, but I knew it would be bitter. To live. Yes-- to face those I killed, those lives I destroyed, the ever-present suspicion. Yes, living was a punishment, one I wouldn't dare to escape, for the consequences were far worse. I finally nodded. The Valar, for once, knew exactly what they were doing.  
  
I met Elrond's understanding eyes. “Thank you. I needed that perspective.”  
  
“You are welcome,” he said warmly. “Now, are you ready?”  
  
“Yes.” I nudged Tirn with my foot, waking him. We followed Elrond out of his study and down the hallway to a room I had never been in before. It was empty, and I knew that if I had so desired, Elrond would have called off the meeting at that very moment. That alone made me realize the depth of feeling my foster son held for me. Once he made sure that I truly wished to do this, he left the room to find his sire.  
  
I sat down on the couch, making Tirn lie in front of me, and looking around the white room, decorated here and there with pale woods. The large windows-- as usual for the rooms on this side of the building-- overlooked the Sea. The floor was hardwood, with a few tan woven rugs scattered around. There were only three books placed on a low table on the far side of the room, but I wasn't tempted to browse. I would be meeting Elrond's biological father for the first time. This would be one of the hardest things I had ever done. I could only hope it went calmly. I didn’t dare hope for well.  
  
Tirn leapt to his feet when the door opened, and a tall man with golden hair stepped into the room. I glanced behind him just in time to see Elrond smile at me and then close the door. The soft thud echoed slightly as I stood up and bowed, and then waited in silence for Eärendil to speak.


	15. Chapter 14

Eärendil did not speak, nor did he move. I gulped nervously, nudged Tirn out of the way-- though he did not stop staring at Eärendil-- and knelt on the floor, not caring that the floor hurt my knees.  
  
“My lord, please forgive my actions. I… I--”  
  
“Forgive? You killed my people, drove my wife from her home, kidnapped my sons, and all for the sake of a jewel. Tell me, Maglor, what would you do if you saw a Silmaril now?”  
  
I clenched my jaw, but remained kneeling on the floor. “The Oath no longer binds me. I would leave it and whomever held it alone.”  
  
Eärendil reached into a pocket, pulling out a small pouch of black velvet. Guessing the Silmaril was in it, I came to my feet, backing up and running into the couch. I fell backwards, landing hard on the cushions. Tirn woofed in surprise, but Eärendil didn't move. Once I was again standing, he opened it and shook it, letting a slim necklace fall out, the Silmaril bound in a loose wire cage.  
  
I stared at it, fear eating away at me. What was he doing? Why was he tormenting me? I could not leave the room, for Eärendil was standing in front of the door. I met his eyes, pleading silently.  
  
“Was it worth it, Maglor?” he asked conversationally, but with an edge of steel.  
  
I shook my head, not daring to say anything.  
  
Louder, he asked, “Was it worth it?”  
  
I whispered, “No. No, it was not.”  
  
Coldly, he asked one more time. “Was it worth it?”  
  
I closed my eyes and bowed my head. “No, my lord, it was not.”  
  
I heard him slip the necklace back in the pouch and I opened my eyes and raised my head, ignoring the tear that slipped down my left cheek. The pouch lay in his hand, appearing completely innocuous. But it was not-- it held the one thing in the world I had hoped never to see again. I had both rejoiced and mourned when I realized that the morning star was no longer shining with the same purity as it had in the past. That action by the Valar had lifted some of the burden from my shoulders, for I no longer had to confront the evidence of my actions. But now? Now that _jewel_ was in the same room with me.  
  
Eärendil slipped the pouch back into his pocket. “I had to know, Maglor.”  
  
I winced, still shaken. This wasn't what I had expected from the meeting at all. To be yelled at, possibly hit, ignored, mocked, hated-- all that I had expected. But not to be confronted with a Silmaril. Eärendil smiled and it lightened his face. He slowly walked forward, kneeling in front of Tirn and scratching his chest. Tirn tolerated the attention, but otherwise ignored Eärendil. I barely kept from slouching in relief. If he wasn’t on alert, I didn’t need to fear.  
  
Once Elrond's sire straightened, he looked me in the eye. “Forgiven. And I must thank you for raising my sons. It is one of my regrets that I was unable to get to know Elros.” Unsure of what to say, I remained silent. He continued, “I must have you to thank for his leadership abilities, for not every person would be able to found a realm. It is not his fault nor your fault that Númenor fell.”  
  
“I know. But I blame myself for him choosing a mortal life.”  
  
“I do not, for I feel much the same. My wife chose immortality for us, but my heart has always been with Men.”  
  
I studied Eärendil. Even though the signs were slight, they were there-- he would fade into invisibility long before many, for even in Valinor, his long life was a burden. “Is there nothing that brings you joy?”  
  
Eärendil smiled again. “Being able to meet Elrond, and though I have never been a father to him-- we are more akin to friends-- that blessing I am eternally grateful for. And I have you to thank for his acceptance of what the world has dealt him, for I believe that if you had not raised him, he would not have been as resilient.”  
  
I said, “Why? After what I did, how can you forgive me?”  
  
“How did Eru forgive you? How did the Valar? How did Elrond?” he asked, glancing out the window. “Mercy exists. What you did was horrible, but your actions led directly to the War of Wrath and the Host of Valinor. I would never have been able to reach these shores without the Silmaril, and I would never have taken it with me on my voyages for fear of losing it. So, you see, Maglor,” he said, turning to look at me. “There was no other way.”  
  
I sank onto the couch behind me. Tirn lay his head on my lap, and I automatically placed a hand on top of it. What Eärendil had said was nothing I hadn't told myself over and over in the millennia I had lived on Middle-earth. But to hear it from him was something I had not expected. Maybe, just maybe, there had been good to my actions, though they were still abhorrent.  
  
“Eärendil,” I said, hating the way my voice cracked slightly. “Thank you.”  
  
He smiled and left the room, pausing just before he opened the door. “All is forgiven, Maglor. Please remember that.”  
  
He left, closing the door behind him. I made no attempt to move until I was sure he was out of the hallway. I wandered down the path to my house and beyond, finally settling on top of a hill amongst the sea grasses. Tirn stretched out for a nap on my right, but I stared out at the ever-changing ocean, still too shattered to think clearly.  


* * * * *

  
  
I glanced up when I heard someone walking through the grasses. Glorfindel smiled when I met his eyes, but I quickly looked back at the ocean, not in the mood for conversation. Tirn, on the other hand, rose to his feet and ran to him, tail wagging furiously. Glorfindel sat next to me, putting a narrow bag between us. He dug into it, gently pushing the curious Tirn out of the way, and pulled out something wrapped in waxed paper.  
  
He handed it to me and said, “I brought lunch. I figured from the way you looked that it was all you could to do walk straight.”  
  
I blinked, coming slightly out of the state of shock. “You were nearby? I didn't see anyone.”  
  
“Maglor, you nearly ran into me. You were absolutely pale and barely living in the present. Now, eat and after that, you can tell me what happened.”  
  
I unwrapped the large roll and bit into it, smiling in surprise when I tasted meat and cheese. I devoured it, only then realizing how hungry I was, for I had been far too nervous to have more than my tea and a piece of toast for breakfast. After I tossed the last bite to Tirn, I unhooked the leash and let him wander. I finally turned to Glorfindel and explained as succinctly as possible what had happened.  
  
He stared at me. “Eärendil had the Silmaril?” He ran a hand through his hair. “He has not worn it since he stopped sailing as the morning star. Elwing wears it occasionally-- which is why it is on a necklace-- but by occasionally, I mean thrice in the past six millennia. I was under the impression that Lady Yavanna had it.”  
  
“Eärendil probably asked for it back. I have no doubts the Valar knew what he was up to.”  
  
Glorfindel nodded. “Just in case.”  
  
I curled my arms around my legs, staring out over the blue-gray water. “They'll never trust me.”  
  
“No, I think was the final test.” I looked over at my friend, raising an eyebrow. “You and they know the Oath no longer binds you, but they could not be sure of your own desires.”  
  
I chuckled at the absurdity of it. “If they truly believed I wanted the Silmaril, they should have remembered I tossed the one I had into the ocean.” Glorfindel reached over and grabbed my right hand, flipping it over. I stared at the faint scar that restricted that hand's movement and pulled my hand out of his grasp. “You're right-- pain had much to do with it. But at that point, I hated them. I still do. They were just jewels.”  
  
Glorfindel said, “But they were unique-- that cannot be denied. But you are correct. They were not worth the bloodshed.”  
  
I looked back at the ocean, ignoring the brightness of the sun glinting off the waves. I noticed out of the corner of my left eye Glorfindel taking some pieces of wood and rapidly fitting them together to form an easel. I shifted position to watch him as he pulled out a small frame covered in blank canvas, as well as a set of oil paints. I lay back, not wanting to disturb him, and looked up at the clear blue sky and the grasses waving at the edges of my vision. I heard Tirn happily barking at something a little way down the hill, but didn't bother to go investigate. The soft brushstrokes slowly lulled me to sleep, and only Glorfindel's shaking my shoulder woke me up.  
  
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”  
  
“Just a couple hours, but it is getting near supper time. I thought you would appreciate being able to eat more than just a roll today.”  
  
I laughed, stood up, and brushed myself off. I whistled for Tirn, who came galloping through the grasses, startling a couple birds into flight. I put the leash back on him, and followed Glorfindel back home. I hesitantly invited him in for supper, not sure if I was able to tolerate more company, but he remained quiet and helped me cook.  
  
While we were cleaning up, I asked him what he had been painting.  
  
He handed me a glass. “Something for Elrond's birthday.”  
  
I smiled, remembering the first celebration we had, since we did not know the twins' begetting day. Elros had said when I asked, “Don't know it. We celebrate our birthday.” That day had been pure chaos. Maedhros had been forced into helping Elrond in the kitchen, trying to make the traditional Doriathan sweet pastry, while Elros and I had been trying-- unsuccessfully-- to make decorations. Everyone went to bed early that night, upset and exhausted, but we learned from it, and the following celebrations had been easier.  
  
“Maglor,” Glorfindel said, catching my eye. “He is not expecting any gifts, especially not from you. Your being here is enough.”  
  
“I know. But this is his first birthday since my return.”  
  
“You do not have much time.”  
  
I smiled. “I already have something.”  
  
Glorfindel put the plate up, surprise radiating from him. “I do not suppose you will tell me?”  
  
“Not unless you tell me what you painted.”  
  
He laughed and put the dish towel on its rack. “We will just have to wait, then.”  
  
I grinned and headed into the living area after putting Tirn's meal in his bowl. Glorfindel, on the other hand, picked up his bag and walked to the door.  
  
“I will see you in the morning, Maglor.”  
  
I locked the door behind him. I looked around the room, eyes settling on a book before going to the balcony. As was my wont, I settled on the railing, and stared up at the appearing stars. Today… It hadn’t turned out how I’d imagined it would. The relief I felt, to know that at least Eärendil had forgiven me, was staggering. It was something I would _never_ take for granted. I couldn’t afford to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit June 2017: Lyra made a gorgeous piece of fanart for this chapter: [An Elf and His Dog](http://qitian.deviantart.com/art/An-Elf-And-His-Dog-683380893).


	16. Chapter 15

Three weeks later, I knocked on the door separating the family suite from the rest of the third floor. Elrohir opened it with a grin.  
  
“Father is embarrassed that we are making a fuss out of his birthday. Mother is not giving him a choice.”  
  
I laughed and stepped into the hallway. “Why?”  
  
His face lost a little of its humor, but he was still smiling. “You. This is the first time that you have been able to be here.”  
  
I followed the noise of conversation to the large room at the end of the hall, one with windows on all three sides and a balcony overlooking the ocean. It was a comfortable room, with couches scattered here and there, with a lit fireplace to the right of the entrance and a bookcase to the left as one entered. Elrohir pointed to where I could put my violin down safely-- out of the way of the twin girls running around. I stayed out of their way, having no desire to be knocked down. Elrohir, on the other hand, swooped down and grabbed one of his grandchildren, lifting her up and kissing her cheek before doing the same to her sister. He turned to me, each on one hip, both grinning wildly.  
  
They chorused hello and broke into giggles. Elrohir put them back on the floor, where they immediately started running around again. I grinned, remembering two boys their age, almost but not quite misbehaving. I sat down on one of the couches, thanking Elrohir when he handed me a glass. He moved off to talk to his son-in-law, but his daughter sat next to me.  
  
“So, what are you going to play?”  
  
“Whatever you want, as long as it is from the Years of the Trees or First Age Beleriand.”  
  
“Nothing new?”  
  
I smiled and sipped my water. “For Elrond. But I want it to be a surprise.”  
  
She switched the topic of conversation. Before we could become too involved in the discussion of the latest books we had read, Eärendil and his wife stepped into the room, followed by Elrond and Celebrían. I froze, but relaxed when the Silmaril was nowhere in sight. Elrond's parents immediately cornered Elrohir, where they proceeded to discuss something in whispers. Elrond rolled his eyes and knelt down just in time to hug his great-granddaughters. Celebrían joined us on the couch, joining in our talk about books. Elrond sat at her feet, playing with the girls, and commenting occasionally.   
  
I leaned against the arm of the couch and studied my foster son. He was more relaxed this evening than I had seen him since my arrival. He truly enjoyed time with his family, and as I looked around, I realized that out of his immediate family still living, only Elladan was not here. And even those not living still held a place of honor, for a large painting of Arwen and Aragorn hung above the fireplace. It wasn't a formal portrait, but one of them simply holding hands and laughing. I didn't know when it was painted, but Arwen was wearing the Ring of Barahir, so it must have been shortly before the War of the Ring, for the setting was clearly Imladris.  
  
Elrond caught my eye. “They would have been glad you were here. Aragorn had heard a rumor you were in Harad after the War, but the man he sent to find you only heard that you had signed on with a caravan heading East.”  
  
“I did not know that. But I am glad the man didn't find me. At that point, I would have refused to return.”  
  
Elrond smiled sadly and turned away, barely in time to stop one of the girls from throwing something at her father.  
  
The evening drew slowly on, and although I avoided talking to Eärendil and Elwing, I was happy. This was my family now, and even though they were technically related by blood, they were far closer to my heart. After the meal was over, during which Elrond had teased me about the Doriathan pastry that we had never truly figured out how to make, I went to the balcony to find a little bit of peace.  
  
I stood out there for only a little while before Elwing joined me, handing me a piece of paper.  
  
“The recipe.”  
  
I blinked and took it, folding the paper and tucking it into a pocket. I turned to face her, confused.  
  
She smiled and gazed at the ocean. “Elrond's story at dinner convinced me that you need to learn to make it properly. So I shall come over tomorrow after dinner-- I know you are busy during the day-- and teach you. No choice, Maglor.”  
  
“But--”  
  
“But what?” she said, looking me in the eye for the first time all evening. “It will not hurt you.”  
  
“Why now?”  
  
“Because this is the first opportunity I've had to talk to you that you cannot run away from. Do not be stupid, Maglor. You raised my sons. Teaching you this is the least I can do.”  
  
“I ruined your life.”  
  
“No, the Silmaril did, and my pride. I know that if I had given into your demands, it would never have happened. But Doriath… That grieves me more than Sirion.”  
  
She left me then, returning inside. I drained the last of the water from my glass, and followed Elwing indoors to pour myself another. This time, Elrohir cornered me and brought me into a conversation about politics with his son-in-law. It was hard enough listening when I knew very little about the current happening at court, much less the people involved, and even worse when the undercurrents meant that I was continuing to be a major problem. I only managed to escape when Elrohir's daughter interrupted and nodded towards my violin. I gratefully left the topic of politics to the other two and swiftly tuned my instrument, drawing Elrond's attention when I did so.  
  
He sat down, delighted, as his family ringed around him, his great-grandchildren leaning against him on either side. I played a few traditional begetting day songs, one of which caused Elrond to laugh because it was the first thing I had taught him to play on the harp, before moving into the complicated and yet joyful piece I had been working on since my arrival at the House.  
  
I poured into it all the affection, the love, and the thanks I felt for my foster son, from when he was a small child, and especially for what he risked in bringing me back to Valinor. For as I had found out over the past months, it was more than I had imagined. And that kindness was a part of him. When I put down the bow, I looked straight at him, not surprised to find tears in his eyes.  
  
After a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence, I began to play a jig that I had learned several centuries ago in Ireland. Celebrían drew her husband off the couch and danced with him around the room. It broke the serious mood, the twins spinning into their own dance directly in front of me, laughing. I glanced over at Elwing, who had a faraway look in her eyes, but she was wearing a small smile. Eärendil glanced at me and nodded. Surprised and unsure of what to do, I turned my attention back to my playing and started an Elvish jig.  
  
I only played a few more songs before all of us went downstairs to the Hall of Fire, where Elrond requested I play the new song again. I did so without hesitation, and afterward joined some other musicians in playing dance tunes. Shortly after midnight, I headed home, needing to let Tirn out. It was one of the few times I resented having him, as I didn’t want to leave. Elrond caught me on the way outside, and drew me into a hug before returning to the celebration.  
  
I laughed aloud as I trudged home. For the first time since I had been here, I felt accepted for who and what I was: a reformed Fëanorion. I knew that Elrond's parents would never be completely comfortable around me, but the fact that they were even willing to talk to me was a large step in the right direction. Add to that the fact that I had been invited to the family-only celebration… Valinor was beginning to feel once more like a home.  


* * * * *

  
  
I caught up the next day with Glorfindel at lunch in the main hall, grabbing the seat next to his wife before he could. “So, what did you give him?”  
  
“You did not see it?” he asked. I shook my head, puzzled. “Go by his study and ask. All I will say is that he loves it.”  
  
“Your husband is no help,” I said, taking a basket of biscuits from his wife and passing them down the table.  
  
Nárë grinned and said, “Well, he is good in a fight. And in bed.”  
  
Glorfindel choked on his mouthful of beans. I chuckled at his expression, but refrained from teasing him. Narmincë had said similar things to her friends, sometimes where I could overhear them, and occasionally when I wasn't supposed to. He pointed his fork at his wife.  
  
“See if I come to bed anytime this week!”  
  
She only raised her eyebrows, a wicked gleam in her eyes and unsuccessfully hiding a grin. Glorfindel spent the rest of the meal verbally sparring with her, while the rest of us listened in amusement or ignored it. After lunch was over, I went to Elrond's study, where I told him that Glorfindel had wanted me to see his present. Elrond smiled and put aside the report he was reading.  
  
As he opened the door to the family quarters, he said, “I hung it this morning, so you would not have seen it last night.”  
  
He led me down the hall to the area where he kept a small gallery of portraits of his family. I had seen them previous times that I had been in the quarters, but had paid little attention to them previously. Elrond pointed to one that hung in the spot where a copy of my royal portrait used to hang. Curious, I moved closer and smiled. Glorfindel had painted me that afternoon on the hill, sitting and looking over the water, a tired but peaceful expression on my face. I turned to Elrond. “Why?”  
  
“I knew you hated the old one, and I didn't like it much, either. This one captures your personality. The other one--”  
  
“Didn't, to put it mildly.”  
  
Elrond chuckled and led me back downstairs. I returned to the classroom, Tirn trotting at my heels. Just a few hours later, though, I was the student in my own kitchen. Tirn had been banished outside for being underfoot, and I had flour covering my face. Elwing kept glancing at me, obviously having a hard time not laughing. She instructed me to make three loaves, each under her supervision until she was sure that I knew what to do. At least before she left, she’d pronounced them edible. After I cleaned up, I collapsed onto the couch. That woman was a terror and as stubborn as she had been back in the First Age. But what was I supposed to do with three large pastries? Elrond had leftovers already and Glorfindel didn't like it. One I could keep for myself, but who to give the others to? Tathar and his family? They would appreciate it. But the third? Maybe I would just bring it to the next meeting of musicians. There, I knew it would be eaten.  
  
I went outside, grabbing a cloak as the night was a little cold, especially with the breeze blowing in from the ocean. When I closed the door, Tirn came running up, tongue lolling out of his mouth. With him at my side, I headed into the field to the south because I had no desire to become wet from the spray. I needed a walk, and there was much to think about, not the least Elwing’s tolerance of me.


	17. Chapter 16

The mild winter passed, with only a couple days where snow stuck to the ground. Tirn, at first, was uncertain, but soon came to enjoy playing in it. I stayed away from the main house on those days, as I had no wish to become involved in a snowball fight. They reminded me too much of happier days in my youth. But _coirë_ came soon enough, with greenery sprouting and leaves forming on the trees. Birds that had migrated further south had reappeared, building nests and raising chicks. Flowers bloomed, spreading their fragrance.  
  
The warming weather allowed me to open the windows and door to my balcony, as the gentle breezes brought fresh air into my house. So I played my violin in the afternoons to capture the best natural light, because the class about mortal customs had ended. I had informed Elrond that I had no desire to teach them. He accepted it, and reminded me that he had suggested my teaching so I could have something to do. Now, though, I had finally started feeling like I belonged and I concentrated on my music.  
  
I still played Mannish music, and occasionally performed it. Given that the new year was fast approaching, I practised Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_. I picked up my violin and began to play, though I kept stopping and restarting in order to perfect it. I took several short breaks before playing an ancient Telerin jig to break the monotony. To my surprise, though I did not stop playing, the light notes of a Telerin flute joined in midway. I adjusted my pace slightly, not recognizing the player, but then, I hadn't heard many such flutes being played here in what seemed to be a mostly Noldorin settlement. After the song was over, just as I removed my bow from the strings, a light trill came up from the flutist and I froze.  
  
No one here knew the musical code my friends and I had worked out. It hadn't seemed important to teach anyone in Beleriand, and most of those who had known it had been slain. The trill came again, louder. I slowly put my violin in its case, automatically loosening the horsehair in the bow, and made it to the open balcony door before I heard the flutist say, “Answer the damn door, Makalaurë, or I'm climbing up!”  
  
Telepevola. I leaned against the doorway, feeling the blood drain from my face, memory of the last time I had seen him flashing through my mind. The time I stabbed my sword through his heart, not recognizing him in the heat of battle until I removed the blade from his chest. If Maedhros hadn't been nearby, I would have died as well.  
  
“Makalaurë, I know you are up there.”  
  
I took the final steps to the railing and looked down at my former friend. He grinned up at me, holding a silver flute in his left hand.  
  
“Are you going to let me in or not?”  
  
“Only if you promise you won't hurt me,” I said softly in ancient Telerin.  
  
Vola blinked and lost the smile on his face. “Ah, Káno, you should know me better than that.”  
  
Switching to modern Sindarin, I said, “I prefer Maglor. I'll come down and let you in-- no need to ruin your flute if you do decide to make the climb.”  
  
I stopped in shock when he said lightly, “Not worried about my head?”  
  
I turned to stare at him, shaking. “You should know better than to joke about something like that.”  
  
I headed downstairs, trying to calm my racing heart. Why had I let Tathar's daughter borrow Tirn for the afternoon? Yes, she missed him, but now was when I needed him the most. No one would hear me if Vola attacked me. No one would be able to defend me. I had thought I was safe; now I was sure I wasn't. I unlocked the door and looked at the pale-faced Vola.  
  
After he stepped inside and I had closed the door, he met my eyes. “I am sorry. I had not thought how that would sound, especially to you. I remembered the way we used to fool around and… and--”  
  
Suddenly having no energy, I sat down on the couch. “And you thought I would find it amusing. Ah, Vola, how can I apologize?”  
  
He sat on a nearby chair, putting the flute-- now back in its case-- on the end table next to him. “You cannot. What was done was done. I have been rehoused. What is there to be said?”  
  
“You shouldn't have had to be so in the first place!” I stood up and stormed over to the east-facing window, as far from the Teler as possible. “It is my fault. I am a Kinslayer, and to make it worse, I killed my best friend.”  
  
I heard him stand up and move into the kitchen, still out of arm's reach. “And that best friend has chosen to forgive you.”  
  
I turned and stared at his feet, too ashamed to meet his eyes. “Why? I killed your kin. I killed you. I stole your ships and burned them. All for the sake of a blasted Oath and three jewels. I don't deserve your forgiveness.”  
  
“I do not forgive the Oath-- that is not in my purview. But I choose to forgive the rest, Maglor. It is my right. Others have not, as is their right. But the Slain as a whole do not wish you harm.”  
  
“Why? I deserve it.”  
  
“You deserve forgiveness. You repented of your deeds long before your brothers did, and wished to give up the Oath. Who else wished to do that? As for the why…” He waited until I looked up. “We would not have been released from Mandos if we would have wished you harm. Malice-- hatred-- is not tolerated. The Elder King made that clear. This is Valinor.”  
  
I snorted. “So we're all supposed to get along now?”  
  
“In peace, yes. Peace meaning a lack of violence. It does not mean a lack of conflict. Maglor, there are many among the Eldar who wish you had never returned. Many of those live in Alqualondë. But they will tolerate your presence if you chose to travel there. They will not harm you.”  
  
“And if they do? Let me guess-- they'll go before the Valar, get exiled for twelve years, and come back with hatred and humiliation grown in their hearts. Yes, that worked so well in the past.”  
  
“King Olwë would handle the trial, and the Valar may or may not be in attendance.” My mouth dropped open and Vola smiled. “The Valar have learned that they need to let us solve our own problems. Not all agree, but enough that they will only step in at greatest need.”  
  
“They learned, then.” Vola nodded and I laughed bitterly. “They told me that; Elrond told me that, as did Glorfindel. Why could they not have learned that before humiliating Father? Why could they not have seen their actions sent him stubbornly in the one direction they wished he would not travel? But they know now. They know now.”  
  
I leaned against the windowsill, watching Vola. He stepped back. “Look, Maglor, this is not the conversation I expected to have.”  
  
“You should have, for it is the one we needed to have.” I rubbed my face with my hands. “I'm not fit for company at this moment, Vola. Where are you staying?”  
  
“In the main house. No worries, Maglor. When would you like me to return?”  
  
 _In fifty years_ , I thought, but said, “Tomorrow morning, at nine.”  
  
He bowed slightly, grabbed his flute, and left the house, only pausing at the edge of the courtyard to wave farewell. I lifted a hand in return, closed and locked the door, and then slid to the ground, turning to lean against the door.  
  
I did not want to see him. I did not want to talk to him. I could not handle the memories he brought. I could not handle seeing one of my victims. I was simply not ready. But neither could I refuse to see Vola. He would understand, I knew that much, but he had deliberately traveled here to see me. I at least would give him the courtesy of talking to him.  


* * * * *

  
  
I spent the rest of that afternoon pacing around my house, gratefully answering the door when Tathar brought back an exhausted but happy Tirn. He spent the rest of the evening snoring on the rug next to my desk. After a sleepless night, morning came. After a breakfast I had to force myself to eat, I went outside to the courtyard and sat on a bench. I couldn't stay inside.  
  
Vola appeared, carrying his flute case, in my courtyard promptly at nine. Tirn went from relaxing at my feet to alert only a few seconds before he entered the area. It gave me just enough time to take a deep breath and rise to my feet. Vola spotted Tirn, who was not on a leash, and stopped moving.  
  
“Maglor…”  
  
“He won't bite unless I tell him to. Tirn, sit.” Vola still looked askance at the dog but moved slowly forward. “He likes his chin scratched.”  
  
Vola knelt down, still wary, but relaxed when the large dog made no move to hurt him. “He was not here yesterday.”  
  
“He was playing with my neighbor's child. I've had him since the week after my trial. Given I'm not allowed weapons, well, he's the best any of us could think of.”  
  
Vola snorted. “A guard dog is a weapon. But he is more than that, is he not?” He stood up and looked out over the water. “My sister has a cat who was originally supposed to be a mouser on her ship, but he ended up becoming a pet. Me, my grandchildren are trouble enough.”  
  
I blinked in shock. He hadn't even been interested in anyone! “How long have you been married?”  
  
“Two _yéni_. We met shortly after my release from Mandos. Calca is wonderful-- you'll have to meet her.”  
  
I rolled my eyes and sat down. “And how long have you been released?”  
  
“Three centuries.”  
  
I bowed my head. If what he had said yesterday was true, then it had taken him a long while to forgive me, to not hate me. Choosing the less dangerous topic, I asked, “And you already have grandchildren?”  
  
“Three of them, all girls. My daughter had triplets.”  
  
“Triplets?”  
  
He grinned. “They're a handful, but they're only three. Now, as you said yesterday, we need to talk. May as well have the hard conversation first.”  
  
I nodded, glancing at the scar on my right hand. “Why did it take so long for you to leave Mandos?”  
  
Vola sighed and settled himself on the ground. Tirn took the opportunity to lie down, putting his head on my feet. “I was not ready. I had forgiven you early on, Maglor, though I don't know how long it was in time. You were as much a victim as I was. A victim of Morgoth and of your father.” He raised a hand to forestall me speaking. “I know you loved him-- and still do-- and that he was a good father. You are a victim of his pride and his stubbornness. If he would have listened to King Olwë, the tragedy would have been prevented. But he was so consumed with grief--”  
  
“Father was insane. We all were. And we didn't want to listen. I don't think Father could have, so consumed was he with hatred and revenge. And do not think that I do not hold blame. I do-- that foul Oath, my choice to follow Father, my choice to draw my sword: I hold as much blame as Father does.”  
  
Vola studied me. “I think you hold less. But we each have our opinion, and I do not think we will change each other's minds.”  
  
“I spent thousands of years on Middle-earth thinking things through, studying human nature and different Secondborn philosophies. I hold the blame, and I regret what happened.”  
  
“But you are at peace with it, aren't you? You dislike it, but you know you cannot change the past.”  
  
I nodded, surprised he understood. “The Valar would not have let me return if I had not made peace with the past. That is what Father's exile from Tirion was supposed to do, but he saw it as humiliation. Me… I've always been introspective. My exile was one of the best things that happened to me, though I will always regret the events that led to it.”  
  
“But you are still scared,” he said, looking at Tirn.  
  
“You tell me-- is it justified?”  
  
Vola met my eyes and quietly said, “Yes.” I let out a shaky breath. Vola continued, “Not here at Elrond's House. Tirion is more accepting, though there are elements who feel differently. The rest of Valinor… Alqualondë would be dangerous for you to visit alone. No one would kill you-- we do not want another Kinslaying-- but at the least you would be shunned. Other places, I am not sure of.”  
  
“How many of the Slain are still in Mandos?”  
  
“Less than three hundred. Back to your question about my time in Mandos: I chose to wait, for not all were as accepting, or even understanding, why I chose to forgive you. I don't know if I helped anyone, but I felt it was necessary. But Lord Manwë finally informed me that my time had come to be rehoused, and so I was.”  
  
I nodded, slightly confused. I wasn’t aware that communication among the people there was even possible. “You talked to others in the Halls?”  
  
“Yes. It is a place of introspection, Maglor, but conversation is welcome at times. Your family I did not speak to, nor did I ever see them, though that means little when I did not see most of the inhabitants.”  
  
“Thank you,” I whispered, a tear falling from my right eye.  
  
“I am sorry I don't have more information, Maglor.”  
  
“No, it's better this way. I know they won't be rehoused until the end, and any news will make the long wait harder. They are in no danger there.”  
  
We sat in silence for a little while before Vola took out his flute and started playing, matching the varying intensity of the breeze. I closed my eyes and just listened. It had been far too long since I had last heard him just play, and I had missed it. More importantly, I had missed our friendship. I had expected to hear nothing from him. So to have him this willing to renew it, I didn’t know what to think. I would accept his overture, but I had to be cautious. Knowing something intellectually was different than experiencing it, and decisions could be changed. I wouldn’t act as anything other than I was, and I hoped that Vola would accept it. Both of us were far different people than we had been back before the Darkening.


	18. Chapter 17

Over the next three weeks, Vola and I took the first steps to reform our friendship, basing it once again on the thing that had brought us together in the past: music. He brought several volumes of Telerin music with him, ranging from the Years of the Trees to the current Age. I thanked him profusely when he said that he had brought them for me to borrow. We slowly worked through them, interweaving our discussion of music with the history that I still needed to know. I hadn't had the time to read as much as I would have liked. Furthermore, Vola had needed to learn the same things, and he was able to tell me the important details that the history books didn't go into.  
  
It was time for him to leave, as Elrond's family was traveling to Tirion for the new year. Vola would be traveling with us until then, but would be continuing home to a small village he said was a couple hours north of Alqualondë. As before, I rode in a cart, even though I had started riding again, I was still not capable of long-distance journeys. Tirn usually trotted alongside, though occasionally curled up next to my feet to rest. Half a dozen guards rode in formal escort, though it was clear that they were prepared to fight if necessary.  
  
As Tirion drew into view ahead of us, I gulped. What did Uncle Finarfin want with me? No one knew, even though I had asked Elrond. Glorfindel, who was riding next to me at that point, caught my eye.  
  
“If you need to escape, I will come with you and drag along one of the other guards.”  
  
I smiled in thanks and focused my attention back on the busy road, not wanting the cart to hit anyone. For the closer we came to the city, the more crowded it became. We ended up in single file, me at the back with Glorfindel riding behind me, so we took up less room. I paid attention to the multitude, most of whom were joyful. I smiled wistfully, remembering other celebrations I had attended before the Darkening. Some though, when they recognized Elrond, their expressions became guarded, and they didn't greet us. Others, though they greeted our party graciously enough, looked right through me. Several, though, spat in my direction. The first time it happened, I leashed Tirn so he wouldn't jump out of the cart. The dog was entirely too good at reading body language, but I had discovered it was typical of his breed, and was usually thankful of it. The other times, I ignored the other travelers’ actions as best as I was able, though I knew the tenseness in my shoulders was a clear signal that they bothered me.  
  
Eventually, we reached the city proper and I said farewell to Vola. Neither of us were emotional, but it was heartfelt. As he rode away, he said he’d come to visit again. It would help me survive Tirion, knowing that some people did want me here. While the crowd grew more numerous still-- _mettarë_ was tomorrow-- I could no longer concentrate on them, having to follow the riders ahead of me. Once we reached Finarfin's house-- it had once belonged to Finwë-- stablehands came to take the horses. I unleashed Tirn so he could jump down, and climbed off the seat. I stretched and reattached the leash so he wouldn't wander off because of all the new smells.  
  
The guards, save for Glorfindel, proceeded to the barracks behind the stable while the rest of us were shown to one of the guesthouses in back of the main house. I was directed to a small corner room on third floor, thankful just to have a space to myself. There was no telling how many would tolerate my presence, and to have a space, however small, that I could feel safe in was a blessing. I swiftly unpacked, changed into clothes that weren't stained by dirt, and went downstairs, Tirn at my heels.  
  
I peered into the parlor where Elrond was talking to a guard and decided to wander the house. I hadn't seen it before-- it had been built after the Exile, judging by the style of stonework-- and was curious. But Elrond called me into the room.  
  
“Maglor, the king wishes to see you. This guard has been assigned to escort you during your visit.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was why we brought our own guards, so no one would be forced to spend an extraordinary amount of time with me.”  
  
Elrond's eyes flickered in amusement. “Take Glorfindel with you.”   
  
I nodded. If my uncle was this anxious to see me, he could wait until I had a friend nearby. Tirn would protect me, but he could not speak in my defense. Just a short while later, he appeared and agreed to come with me. So the three of us returned to the main house. I was escorted to Finwë's-- no, Finarfin's-- study. The guard knocked on the door and opened it, announcing me. Glorfindel gave me a sympathetic look and I stepped into the room, the guard closing the door behind me.  
  
I bowed to the man sitting behind a massive desk. He looked me over, paused at seeing Tirn, and I had a hard time not fidgeting like a child. This was not the Finarfin I knew. He was harder and wore his authority well. Although he had not been specifically trained to rule, he was obviously good at it. And that frightened me, for he knew what my father had never learned: opposition did not necessarily mean dislike and disloyalty.  
  
“Sit down, Maglor. We have much to talk about.”  
  
I mutely obeyed, not sure I liked his tone of voice. He was my uncle, yes, but now he was first and foremost my king. The bonds of kinship had been broken at Alqualondë.  
  
“Why do you think you can come here?”  
  
“I was ordered to by yourself, your majesty.”  
  
“Not here to Tirion. I mean Valinor.”  
  
I raised both eyebrows. “The Valar pardoned me. I spent thousands of years in exile on Middle-earth. It was time for me to return home.”  
  
“And so you seek to make this your home now.”  
  
“It _is_ my home, Uncle. I have been forbidden to leave. Get to the point.”  
  
“What are your plans for the future, and do I have to accommodate my house to your presence?”  
  
I grinned ferally. “My plans are simple: adjust to life here, live once again with Narmincë if she will have me, and make music. Oh, and a child or two. Anything else I do not care about. Politics are your domain, not mine.”  
  
“And the restrictions you live under?”  
  
“I live within them, though I do not like them. You fail to understand that I take full responsibility for my actions.”  
  
“You fail to realize that you do _not_.” He stood up, coming around the desk. Unwilling to remain seated, I stood up as well, Tirn at alert by my side. “You are a pawn of Morgoth, a reminder of everything that happened. You do not know what I went through after I received my pardon. No one would trust me, and the tenth who remained behind were shattered. I worked hard over the following centuries to rebuild the Noldor to a fraction of what we were. And then you come back here expecting everything to be the same!”  
  
“I did no such thing,” I said coldly, trying to keep my temper. “Things can never be the same, and I do not wish them to be. Keep your kingship, Uncle. I have no desire for it.”  
  
“You are ungrateful for everything that the Valar offered you.”  
  
I laughed, bitter. “Ungrateful? For my life? Yes, I am grateful for that. But you seem to imply I want more. Finarfin, I don't give a damn what you think. I am no child. I am no pawn of Morgoth. You and everyone else save those who dared to get to know me-- as I am now, not the assumption of the past-- think that I am a volatile reaction waiting to explode.  
  
“And I am, Uncle, if pushed the wrong way. I am still a Fëanorion. Do not doubt that I am dangerous. But I am no threat. There is a subtle difference between the two, even if most people will not see it. Leave me be, Uncle. I have no desire for Tirion.”  
  
Without waiting for his response, I stormed out of the room, Tirn trotting to keep up with me. From the way Glorfindel swung into place at my side, I knew the guards had heard the conversation. He said nothing as I strode into the square, dodging around a group of children playing in front.  
  
I paid no heed to the crowds, heading deeper into Tirion itself, not caring where I went. Glorfindel said nothing, but stayed at my side. I knew better than to demand he leave, for that meant I would be breaking the strictures. Hell, I was breaking them by having just one guard accompany me. But I didn't care, not now.  
  
I ignored the banners, flower garlands, and other New Year decorations; the children playing; the adults talking. What caught my attention was the differences: buildings weren't where they were supposed to be, fountains were gone or replaced, places where there were stairs in the past now had ramps alongside or in place of. Everything had changed.  
  
It was the changes that finally breached my anger, and I sat down on the wide edge of a fountain in a small courtyard in a section of the city I didn't recognize. Tirn took the opportunity for a drink, and his lapping made me realize how thirsty I was after my flight through the streets. I stuck a hand under the flow, bringing some to my mouth.  
  
“Why didn't he understand?”  
  
Glorfindel sat next to me. “I think you were talking at cross-purposes. But you know that he is not fond of the House of Fëanor. He made assumptions that many make, though I think the fact that both of you lost your temper may help you in the future, since he will be forced to recognize certain things about himself. As will becoming a part of the fabric of Valinorin life, but that will be centuries in the making.”  
  
I smiled, but my hands trembled. “We have the Finwion pride, even though he's supposed to be the mild-mannered one. I just don't think he likes me. But I can't avoid him.”  
  
“I do have a question for you: why did you not lose your temper before this? He is not the first to question you to your face.”  
  
I rubbed my face with my hands, taking in the strange sight of a Noldo walking with a long black stick sweeping the street in front of her. I watched her even while I answered Glorfindel, and realized she was blind. “Because I'm tired of it. It took me a little while to adjust to living here-- though I still am in many ways-- but I cannot hide any longer. People will have to accept me for who and what I am.”  
  
“And what is that?”  
  
“A reformed Kinslayer and Oathtaker.”  
  
We sat in silence, listening to the water tinkling into the fountain behind us, the scent of fresh bread baking somewhere in the square drifting on the light breeze that played with the loose ends of my hair that would not stay confined, and the sounds of the crowd preparing for the two-day celebration.  
  
I sighed and stood up. “I don't want to go back to the guesthouse. Would you mind if we explored?”  
  
Glorfindel smiled and stretched. “Not at all. It feels good to walk.”  
  
“Which is why I am grateful that I am in charge of the cart.”  
  
“Not on the return journey-- I will force you to ride.”  
  
“You and what army?”  
  
“I will have Elrond drug you and then I will tie you to the saddle.”  
  
I shook my head, and we left the square still bantering. We wandered, but we ended up near the smithies. Glorfindel glanced at me when I realized where we were, but I had immediately made up my mind. I had to see what happened to Father's forge.  
  
The streets were less crowded here, but there were several families up ahead, including a small one where I recognized both parents: one a Noldorin Kinslayer, the other a Telerin Slain. Their small child was holding both their hands, chattering away. All three looked happy, and that sent a jolt down my spine. Both adults smiled at me as we passed by, and I realized for the first time that true reconciliation was possible. If two individuals from those divisions could fall in love, there was hope for me.  
  
I reached the building, surprised it was still there given who had owned it, noting the door was open and someone was alternately pounding hot metal and sticking it in water, sending a hissing cloud of steam into the air. I glanced at the sign, knowing that whoever owned it now had probably removed all traces of Father's presence. To my surprise, the sign was of a hammer and anvil painted on top of the Star of Fëanor. Someone hadn't forgotten their history, or didn't care about the connection.  
  
I stepped inside, Glorfindel following. The lit was dim in the forge, and the dark-haired Noldo didn't turn around, intent on his work, when one of the floorboards in the entryway creaked underneath me. “I'll be with you in a moment,” he said absently.  
  
I gasped. Celebrimbor. He had been reborn? Glorfindel whispered in my ear, “I will wait outside” and left the building. I stood there, waiting for my nephew to turn around. He eventually did so, brushing his hands off on the apron he wore to protect his clothes.  
  
“How may I--” He stopped and dropped his hands to his sides, face not bothering to hide his shock. “Uncle Maglor!”  
  
He stepped forward carefully, almost as if he didn't want to spook me. Rather than speak to me when he reached me, he knelt and let Tirn sniff him. Satisfied the dog was happy with his presence, he spoke, “Let us go to my office. Where are your guards?”  
  
I grimaced and said, “Glorfindel's outside.”  
  
I sat in the simple wooden chair before his messy desk and he moved his out from behind.  
  
“I wondered when you would come to see me.”  
  
“I didn't know you had been reborn until now.”  
  
“At the end of the Fifth Age, Uncle. My transition to life here was not smooth, though it was marginally easier than yours, I suspect.”  
  
“How did King Finarfin--?”  
  
He laughed bitterly. “We barely speak to each other. He thinks I should have suspected Annatar, forgetting to realize that no one suspected Morgoth of duplicity until Grandfather drew his sword. Annatar… he appealed to our pride. He appeared as one of us. We did not think anything untoward of his knowledge, though looking back, I can see warning signs. It's hard, learning to deal with what we willingly did.”  
  
“Are you going to the feast?”  
  
“I will be there for a couple of hours, before the looks and comments from the court become too much. I live a few blocks away from here, in a small house, though if I work too late into the night, I sleep in the loft.”  
  
I laughed. “Oh, I remember when Father did that. Mother used to become so mad. And when your father followed in his footsteps… At the time, I didn't understand why she would get so angry when she did the same thing at times, but now, well, I think I do.”  
  
“Things change, and there are regrets we all have.” He looked down at his hands. “Everyone expected me to give up smithing when I was rehoused. So the court was shocked when I bought this place from a smith who was planning on going into something else. I am not ashamed of or afraid of my work; just the Rings, and those helped at times. It was _not_ my fault that Sauron created the Master Ring, and those who attempt to blame me for that have little understanding of what life on Middle-earth is like.”  
  
“They're too complacent here. And most think that mortals…”  
  
Celebrimbor met my eyes. “You would know better than anyone else, even Elrond. The Quendi have become so insular that I think the Valar's decision to open the Straight Road to bidirectional travel was the best they have made since their decision to fight the War of Wrath. I cannot know what Eru's plan is, but to have the both Children come to know each other, even if the Secondborn do not realize it, there is a reason for it.”  
  
“Hopefully it isn't the Dagor Dagorath.”  
  
“No, it is not that. We are not invisible yet. A few, yes, tending to be the ones who awoke at Cuiviénen, but not many. The earth is young yet, and still has billions of years left in its lifespan. No, I think it is something basic, something we seem to have forgotten: empathy.”


	19. Chapter 18

After my conversation with Celebrimbor, Glorfindel and I returned to the guesthouse in silence, weaving our way through the increasingly boisterous crowds, most of whom paid absolutely no attention to me. I was grateful, for I had much to think about.  
  
Of course, I wasn't given a chance.  
  
Elrond met us at the door, fury written across every line of his body. I stilled, barely breathing. I had expected Finarfin to be angry, but not Elrond. Tirn, true to his training, stepped in front of me, hackles raised.  
  
“Glorfindel, take Tirn to Maglor's room. His master and I need to talk.”  
  
Rather than protest, I unhooked the leash, handed it to Glorfindel, his face now drawn and pale, who I realized was also in trouble, and commanded Tirn to relax and follow. Elrond waited until they were inside before turning to me. The fury in his gray eyes reminded me of Father, and I unconsciously straightened to my full height. Elrond gestured me indoors and I did so, following him to the small library. Once he shut the door behind us, he spun, no longer bothering to contain his anger.  
  
“What, in all the circles of the world, made you think you could shout at the king of the Noldor and escape punishment?”  
  
“He shouldn't have said that all I am is a reminder of what Morgoth did.”  
  
“Oh? Is that all?” Elrond stepped closer, and I stood my ground. “Maglor, he knows full well the strictures that are placed on you. He also knows that you left with only Glorfindel, and went off to who knows where! He has already sent a message to the Elder King reporting your lapse.”  
  
I blanched. “Shit.”  
  
Elrond's eyes bored into mine. “I could not stop him. I would have ignored it, given your tendency to run from trouble.”  
  
“Well, I can't run now.”  
  
“Something you learned too late! Maglor, I do not know what the Valar will do. You may have jeopardized everything, and you have been here less than a year!”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“So _why_ did you do it?”  
  
“I am tired of being treated as a pariah. I could only take so much, Elrond. I have reached my limit.”  
  
“You will not apologize?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Elrond finally glanced away, rubbing his temples. “Then I do not know what to do with you, Maglor. I suggest that you not leave this house until we know more.”  
  
“Is that an order?”  
  
“If it must be.”  
  
I left Elrond and stormed up to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Tirn greeted me, tail wagging, and I grabbed his comb, hoping that the routine of grooming him would help me calm down. Once he became tired of me stroking him over and over again-- the pile of fur next to me was larger than some small dogs I had seen on Middle-earth-- he curled up on the rug placed next to the bed.  
  
I put down the brush and moved over to the window, looking out at the square below me, bordered on three sides by guesthouses and on the fourth by the main building. I saw a guard stationed by the entryway, his gaze intent on the doorway to this building. Fine-- Finarfin wasn't taking any chances that I would run away again.  
  
I leaned against the cool pane of glass. Not that I would bolt now. That afternoon would be the last time-- I was no longer in mortal danger on Middle-earth if someone discovered my secret. But if I had not left Finarfin's study then, I would have probably hit him. Could the man be any more dense? No, probably not, though his dislike of me bordered on the pathological. I reached up, unlatched the window, and opened it, hoping to let some air into the room. But the air was still in the approaching twilight. I attempted to pace around the room, but there wasn't enough space for me to do so properly. And I certainly wasn't about to leave my room. Elrond and I would probably just start arguing again.  
  
I stuck my head out the window and looked up. Yes, there were handholds. I checked on Tirn, making sure he had water in his bowl, and climbed out the window. I reached the roof a couple minutes later, and settled in, arms wrapped around my legs.  
  
I gazed over the city, remembering other sunsets. But this one was gorgeous, probably due to the fact that I was outside on a rooftop, not stuck indoors. The purples and roses, the golds and the oranges-- all reflected off the white roofs and buildings, bringing color to a somewhat bland exterior. Of course, I hadn't thought it bland during the Years of the Trees, but then Telperion and Laurelin had colored the stone. But it proved once again how living among mortals had colored my perceptions of the world, for even their modern buildings generally weren't just one color. The variations appealed to me eventually, and now that I was back in Tirion, I missed them.  
  
I heard a door slam open and then raised voices in the courtyard, but didn't bother to look. I knew who was involved, and I didn't want either one to know I was up here.  
  
“Elrond, what was I supposed to do, knock him over the head and drag him to you?” Glorfindel said. “Frankly, Finarfin all but said he wished Maglor was in Mandos. How else was he supposed to react? Now if you will excuse me.”  
  
I caught a glimpse of the golden-haired Noldo as he strode through the alleyway between a guesthouse and the house of the king. The only reaction I heard from Elrond was the front entrance click shut. I lay back, easily keeping my balance on the gentle slope of the roof. This was entirely what I had expected from my visit to Tirion. I don't know why Elrond had thought different.  
  
I ignored the knock on my door, not wanting to climb down. Tirn barked when I heard the door creak open. I grinned, wondering what the expression was on the face of whomever had opened the door.  
  
Elrond cursed and said, “Maglor, where did you go now?”  
  
I sighed, not wanting to get into even more trouble, and sat up. “I'm on the roof, Elrond.”  
  
Silence came from below, and then some scrambling noises before his head poked above the gutter. “Why?”  
  
“I didn't want to be indoors.”  
  
He rolled his eyes and climbed the rest of the way up, settling himself beside me. We watched the city transition from daylight to night in silence, the wind picking up a little. Indistinct shouts and laughter came from the streets, though we couldn't see anyone from our vantage point.  
  
“You will need to apologize to him.”  
  
“For losing my temper, yes. Not for anything else. I am not ashamed of being my father's son, Elrond. Celebrimbor made that clear to me-- he isn't ashamed of what he did, either, only of being fooled.”  
  
Elrond glanced at me. “You went to your father's workshop?”  
  
“Habit, and a morbid curiosity as to what happened to it. I hadn't expected my nephew to own it. No one told me he had been rehoused.”  
  
“He said he would prefer for you to find him on his own, and that you should not have to feel obligated to talk to him. Furthermore, he rarely talks to anyone connected with Finarfin. He has to deal with many of the same problems you do.”  
  
“I know. Which is why I am glad I had the opportunity to talk to him. He understands more than anyone else around here, including Vola. Vola was only Slain, not unique. My nephew is part of the House of Fëanor--”  
  
“He is the head of it, not that it means much now.”  
  
“Yes, there's him and me, and any wives who wish to be associated with us. Anyway, he's the creator of the rings. No one else I can talk to understands what it is like to be a pariah. You may have compassion for us, and a great desire to help, but you aren't one of us.”  
  
“No, I am just outcast in some circles for daring to defend you. It is worse now that you live in my house. Some who were civil to me no longer are. Do not dare think that you are alone, Maglor, and do not think that I do not suffer consequences. Speak with your nephew-- it will help him to have family to talk to.”  
  
“Mother doesn't speak to him?”  
  
“They write, but they have only met a couple times. But she cannot understand, for the same reason I cannot. Now, will you come to dinner?”  
  
I shook my head. “I'm not in the mood for company.”  
  
Elrond nodded, gently touched my shoulder, and carefully climbed back down. I lay back, looking at the stars, especially Menelmacar and the Valacirca. What had I lost today, and was it worth what I had gained?  
  
A muffled bang caused me to crane my head behind me and then sit up, unwilling to trust my balance if I stood too swiftly. “What does the Elder King want, Eönwë?” I asked.  
  
The dark-haired Maia-- wearing the armor he’d worn in the War of Wrath, though he didn’t have a sword-- handed me a sheet of parchment folded in three and sealed with a blob of wax. I ran a finger over it, feeling the peak of Taniquetil inside it. The herald made no move, so I broke the seal and unfolded the paper, reading the Tengwar written large enough and dark enough for me to see in the dim light.  
  
 _Maglor Fëanorion,_  
 _You know the consequences. Do not try our patience again._  
 _The Elder King_  
  
I reread the short note, confused. Was I not in trouble? I looked up at the herald, whom I had not seen since the end of the War of Wrath, on the night I thought I would die defending my brother and myself. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memories. He smiled.  
  
“One more chance. We are not heartless. Now, a word of advice: avoid Finarfin. He is not happy at our response.”  
  
I said, “I was planning on that anyway. Would you please tell the Elder King thank you?”  
  
Eönwë said, “I will.” He vanished, the air clapping as it rushed into the sudden vacuum. I shook my head, looking at the parchment before folding it up and tucking it into a pocket. I lay back down, more confused than ever. Lord Irmo had made it quite clear that the Valar would not tolerate any mistakes on my part. This life in Valinor was my second chance. I would not receive a third. So why had they ignored my wandering with only one guard? I smirked. Maybe Glorfindel counted for two, being one of the only Balrog slayers in existence. I could think of no way to confirm my hypothesis, though, save asking directly, which I would not do. The less I had to deal with the Valar, the better.  
  
But if trying to avoid their attention meant that I had to tolerate abuse, I could not and would not do that. Sometimes, the best action was confrontation. It did not matter that my strictures stated I was not to respond. That was unreasonable. Silence was not the answer, and could sometimes escalate the situation. So could trying to maintain calm. It certainly hadn't worked for Finarfin all those Ages ago. Running, which was the only other option available, would make me seem a coward or could also escalate it. No, this was one stricture that was unreasonable. Though it may get me into trouble, I decided then and there that I would not follow it if the situation demanded.


	20. Chapter 19

The next evening at the feast, I was shown to a table set for two as far away from Finarfin as possible. I was not surprised when Celebrimbor sat down in the other chair, wearing a wry smile on his face.  
  
“I suppose that since there are two of us disgraced ones, they may as well have a separate table for us.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “Where did you used to sit?”  
  
“With those who would not speak to me of anything of consequence. Namely, those who Finarfin bribed to ignore me.”  
  
“Bribed?”  
  
He chuckled and spread his napkin on his lap. “I am sure a few of them were, but most were not. After all, who can say what knowledge I gained from Sauron and what I gained from my own research?” He bitterly stabbed a potato with a fork. “Anyway, now I will have someone to talk to.”  
  
I grinned. “I think he's caused more trouble than he thinks. Yes, we may be separated from the rest of the family, but the two of us together? Half the people here will think we're plotting something.”  
  
“I know Celeborn will.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “There are others, Finarfin when he sees that we aren't going to let our separation bother us.”  
  
Celebrimbor raised his wine glass in a toast. “The best revenge.”  
  
I lifted mine as well, took a sip, grimaced, and put it back down. I’d never liked dry wines. We spent the feast itself catching up from where we had left off in our previous conversation. Both of us skipped over certain things, knowing this was not the time to talk about them. When I caught Finarfin's eyes in the middle of it, I simply grinned and looked back at my nephew. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pale and take a rather large gulp of his wine.  
  
After the feast, Finarfin and his family, in order of rank, left the hall, proceed to the square to join in the large celebration taking place there. Both of us trailed behind, and we were quite happy to be there. We would attract the least amount of attention, and neither of us wanted to stared at.  
  
I found a place by a low wall, next to a large planter. I leaned against it, putting my water glass on the wall next to my elbow, and listened to the music, none of which I had heard before. Celebrimbor settled on the edge of the planter and let me listen in silence. He watched the dancers, their brilliant outfits, encrusted with embroidery and gems, flashing in the light of the Fëanorian lamps scattered here and there, but with the light of Mindon high above all.  
  
After a while, Celebrimbor excused himself. He finished his wine and placed the glass on a nearby table crowded with goblets. I watched him make his way through the edges of the crowd until he disappeared into the mass of people. I decided to return to the guest house. There was no need for me to be here. I made it halfway to the doorway of Finarfin's house, having chosen to take the quickest route, when I heard Celebrían call out my name. I sighed and turned around. I would give her one dance.  
  
The words froze on my tongue when I saw who was standing next to her, wearing a replica-- for I knew fabric could not last this long-- of the dress she had worn to our first new year's celebration after our marriage, the dress that had been my favorite. The wine-colored fabric was shaped to her lithe torso, flaring out to a full skirt at her hips, hinting at more than could be politely revealed in public at a formal setting. The gold embroidery at the hem and neckline brought out the highlights in her blond hair. Her eyes… her eyes danced with suppressed laughter as she sauntered toward me. I whispered, “Narmincë.”  
  
I couldn't help myself-- I rushed forward and drew her into my embrace, unsure if she would let me kiss her at this point. But she tilted her head slightly and gently pressed her lips to mine. I deepened the kiss, running my hands over the soft fabric covering her back and pulling her closer. She eventually stepped back and grabbed one of my hands, tugging me in the direction I had come from.   
  
“So, where were you going?” she said, twitching her skirt out of the way of the planter when we reached where I had been standing earlier.   
  
“The guesthouse. I saw no reason to stay here. Now I do.” I studied her face, wondering how she’d take the next bit. “I’d still rather not be the focus of much attention, even to dance.  
  
“Would you be willing to at least once?” she asked, keeping her face composed.  
  
“Not with this music. I don't even know the steps. Otherwise, yes-- just one.”  
  
She laughed. “The musicians will play traditional songs occasionally, especially on request. So, when would you like to do so?”  
  
“You decide. I'm not going to approach the musicians-- I'd rather not play or sing tonight.”  
  
Narmincë chuckled. “As if they will let you get away with dancing but not anything else. How about just before you need to let Tirn out for a bit? Elrond told me there aren’t many servants working tonight.”  
  
“As my lady wishes,” I said, taking one of her hands and kissed her hand.  
  
True to her promise, she didn't pressure me to dance before then. Instead, we traded stories about our lives and experiences, though we avoided the heavier subjects. We constantly brushed against each other, reveling in being near each other once again. I lost my breath when she threw back her head and laughed, or when she turned, the light shining on her hair and skin. How could I have left her? But I didn’t ask that aloud, for a celebration was no place to discuss regrets. Better that we remember the happier times. Eventually, though, she left for a few minutes to ask the musicians to play something I was able to dance to.  
  
When she returned with a smile on her beautiful face, I led her near the area set aside for dancing, which was nearly the entire square, and waited until the set was over and the lead singer said that they had a request for one of the ancient Telerin dances. Most of the crowd shook their heads and I realized exactly what Narmincë had done.  
  
I hissed in her ear, “Why?”  
  
“Why not? It was one of your favorites.”  
  
I let her pull me onto the dance floor, spotting only a few other couples out of the corner of my eyes. This was not what I had in mind-- I’d hoped for a dance where I would be safely anonymous in a crowd numbering hundreds, not one where the participants numbered less than fifty, all of whom were Noldor born before the Darkening. Just as I moved into position, I noticed Finarfin's stony face. Fine, if this annoyed him, I could live with being humiliated before the whole of Tirion.  
  
The light strains of a Telerin flute rose above the crowds' murmuring, and the dance started. Narmincë and I slowly glided through the steps, picking up the pace when the music did. That was one of the reasons this had never been a truly popular dance save in some circles: few people had liked the exertion required. But it was flashy, and as I concentrated on keeping both of us from tripping, I realized I had missed this more than I had suspected. It had been far too long since I held her in my arms, moving in tandem with her.  
  
When the dance was over, I escorted her out of the dance area, ignoring the expressions of disbelief and shock on most faces, though they were preferable to the looks of hatred I saw on some. Someone in the king's livery handed Narmincë and me glasses of water, which we desperately needed. He waited until we caught our breath and informed us that King Finarfin requested my presence. I glanced at Narmincë, who smirked and refused to leave my side until I reached him. I bowed as shallow as protocol allowed and waited with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Come to me after breakfast on the first of _tuilë_. I think we need to have another conversation.”  
  
I barely hid a smirk when I took my leave of the king, and headed off to the guesthouse with Narmincë on my arm. Tirn behaved impeccably with her, which I was silently thankful for. After only a few minutes, though, I put him back in my room and we returned to the celebration, something that until our reunion, I had not expected to do.  
  
Of course, the instant we stepped into the courtyard, one of the musicians who had been playing earlier that evening accosted me.  
  
“I'm not going to play or sing. This is the first evening I have had with my wife since I left Valinor. I would appreciate if you would inform those who wish for me to perform.”  
  
He nodded, a little pale, and disappeared into the crowd. I firmly kissed my wife, and led her back to our spot by the low wall. After several more hours of both talking and comfortable silences, we returned to my room, not to have sex, but to sleep. I wasn’t ready for the former, but the latter… It was wonderful to have her next to me, pillowing her head on my left arm.  


* * * * *

  
  
I knocked on Finarfin's study promptly after breakfast with Narmincë. He opened the door and ushered me in. Both guards-- Glorfindel was spending the day with his wife and youngest daughter-- waited outside. I sat down in the same seat as before without being ordered, breaking protocol, but I didn't care. My uncle said nothing, but simply sat behind his desk, folding his hands together.  
  
“I fear that our argument the other day--”  
  
I raised my eyebrows. “Argument? Finarfin, you insulted me and prejudged me. I had no reason to stay here.”  
  
“Then let us get one thing straight, Fëanorion: I blame you for the deaths of many. The Valar have forgiven you, but they have not pardoned you. I still say you are an unwilling thrall of Morgoth, bringing divisions once thought healed out in the open once more. However, the Valar have made it perfectly clear that you wish to be an ordinary citizen and that you do not want the power that you once held.”  
  
“I am a son of Fëanor, Finarfin. I was raised to lead, though that was put behind my musical studies. Father is no longer here to suggest my focus or my activities, and I choose to focus on my music. There is much I have to learn and much to teach. I meant it when I said I was not interested in politics, Uncle. My House is Dispossessed, and I am glad of it.”  
  
“Then I withhold my judgement. Do not disappoint me.”  
  
I half-smiled. “I have no plans to do something stupid. I rather like my freedoms.”  
  
Finarfin chortled for a couple seconds and then dismissed me. The guards and I returned to the guesthouse, where I spent the morning studying the two books of violin music in the library, my dog napping at my feet, and Narmincë reading at my side. She left the next day, having to return to her home and work, though she made it quite clear that she would visit me as often as possible. Two days later, Elrond’s household rode out of Tirion, me mounted on Glorfindel's horse. I refused to look back at the city, having privately decided to never return unless I was ordered to. The memories were not worth it.


	21. Chapter 20

Seven years later, I rolled over in bed and looked at my wife in the soft morning light coming in through the east-facing window. I brushed a strand of hair off her face, and she opened her eyes. Narmincë smiled sleepily at me before pulling the covers closer around her naked body. I leaned over and kissed her. “I'll go make breakfast.”  
  
She made a happy noise of agreement and I slipped out of bed. I took a quick shower before cooking some eggs and making some toast. While I waited for my wife, I poured Tirn a bowl of his food, thankful he hadn't made a fuss about being shut downstairs given his tendency to be a little too inquisitive at the wrong moment. It had been a bit of an adjustment for everyone-- Narmincë didn’t have pets, I was used to living alone, and Tirn was used to just me.  
  
Narmincë trudged downstairs, a dressing gown wrapped around her. She sat at the table, eyes still sleepy. I poured her a cup of her favorite tea and placed it before her. She still had problems waking up in the morning, even after all these years. I put the food on the table and sat down, waiting until she had served herself before taking my portion. We ate quietly, enjoying each other’s company. I had no idea what she was thinking about, but from her pensive expression, it worried me.  
  
She eventually picked up her tea cup and held it with both hands, elbows on the table. She sipped it and said, “I wish you could live with me.”  
  
I drank the dregs of my own tea. “So do I. But even if Elrond gave permission, we'd still have to deal with the Valar. I know my son wouldn't assign two guards to me just so I could live with my wife.”  
  
“So ask the Valar.”  
  
I studied Narmincë over the rim of my cup. Her Vanyarin heritage made life interesting at times before the Darkening, given our two beliefs about the Valar, and it was more so now. “I do not think they will agree. I'm lucky enough to be here.”  
  
She leaned forward. “I, for one, am tired of this. You’re my husband, and I should not have to take time away from my work to see you for only a week or two every year.”  
  
“I dislike it, too, but--”  
  
“But what? You’re no threat to anyone. It’s time everyone else realized that. And it’s time you stop hiding here.” She tapped the table with every word. “Go talk to Elrond.”  
  
“As you wish, my lady.”  
  
She nodded sharply and cleaned up the table while I pulled my shoes on over my bare feet. Tirn ran to the door and I let him out, knowing he wouldn't go far. I kissed my wife and left the house, leash in hand. We strolled down the path, Tirn sniffing everything in sight. I kept an eye on him, to make sure he wasn’t annoying nearby people. I determinedly ignored the panic that was trying to build. I had to take this step. Once we reached the main house, I leashed my dog and strode to Elrond's study, knocking on the open door and entering when he waved me in. I sat down in the chair, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “Narmincë wants me to live with her.”  
  
Elrond grinned. “Congratulations! I wondered when she’d ask-- and if you’d request permission. You have it. But I need to talk to the Valar before you will be allowed to leave.”  
  
“She figured you'd say that. I don't think they'll agree.”  
  
“The worst they can do is say no.”  
  
“And she'll be forced to visit me, not live here, because she won't leave her work even though I have little to do here. The Valar’s position is unacceptable, Elrond.”  
  
“No,” he said severely. “Their stance is the cost of your actions.” His face softened. “Rest assured that I will send a missive to the Elder King. We will know soon enough.”  
  
Before leaving the room, I already knew what the answer would be: no. So what was the point in asking?  
  
Three days later, Narmincë left for home, once again leaving me alone. I hated watching her ride away, knowing it would be a year or more before I saw her again due to her work. Still, it was nothing compared to Ages. I had to keep that in mind, as she kept reminding me, though it was difficult living in the same land and not being able to talk. The Eldar had yet to utilize the telephone. Four days after that, Elrond called me into his study. He handed me a parchment and I read it without glancing at the seal, recognizing the handwriting.

 

_Lord Elrond Peredhel,_   
_Send Maglor to Nienna. She will explain matters to him._   
_The Elder King_

  
  
I raised my eyebrows and tossed the missive on the desk. So they were interfering. No, I corrected myself. They were leaving this between us, not making Elrond the middleman. He had enough to deal with without becoming involved in our conflict.  
  
“When do you want to leave?”  
  
“Tomorrow. I'd rather have my _explanation_ sooner rather than later.”  
  
He nodded. “Go tell Glorfindel that you will need an escort. I trust you can handle the rest of your arrangements?”  
  
I rolled my eyes at the glint of amusement in his. He chuckled and turned back to his paperwork. I opened the door, turning slightly to see him over my shoulder. “Thank you, Elrond, for at least trying.”  
  
He smiled. “I hope the explanation is satisfactory, Father.”  
  
I left the door open and went to the training field. By this point, people had become used to my wandering about to completely ignore my presence. As long as I didn't handle any weapons, no one cared if I went near the training fields. I finally found Glorfindel in his office, discussing the latest trainees with a captain. I stayed outside and leaned against the wall, waiting until the meeting was over. My friend waved me into his office when the captain left.  
  
“I cannot talk long, Maglor.”  
  
“I've been ordered to visit Lady Nienna as an answer to a question I need resolved. Hence, I need two guards. I'm leaving after breakfast tomorrow.”  
  
“How long do you think you will be gone?”  
  
“Given I'm dealing with the Valar here, I don't know, but I'm guessing no longer than a week.”  
  
Glorfindel flipped through a roster. “I will get back to you at dinner.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
The next morning, two guards and I rode north most of the day, only stopping for lunch around midday. (Tirn was staying at Tathar’s until I returned.) We turned onto a small dirt road that led into the forest lining both sides of the road. Due to the twists and turns, we smelled and heard the ocean before we saw it. Nienna's house blocked much of the view. I had never been here before, so I studied the structure, not terribly impressed at the weather-worn gray wood and the age-pitted stones though the fact that there were large picture windows reassured me somewhat-- she wasn’t completely immune to the view. I dismounted and waited in silence.  
  
Two men dressed in black came out of the low building to our left and led our horses away, promising that our baggage would reach our rooms. My two guards appeared nearly as nervous as I felt. One of them shrugged diffidently, obviously trying to pretend he wasn't. The other one, more experienced, ignored my scrutiny, concentrating on the surroundings. For once, though, I wasn't nervous about others. If anyone dared hurt me in a Valië's domain, they would be punished. The door to the house opened and Lady Nienna, a tall woman in a sensible, dark gray dress, followed by a woman in white, walked down the two shallow steps and over the short expanse of grass to meet us. She smiled at the two guards, but it vanished when she met my eyes.  
  
“He will show you to your rooms,” the Valië said to my guards. “Maglor and I need to talk.”  
  
I raised my eyebrows. “So I don't even have a chance to clean up?”  
  
The clearing was silent for a moment before she spoke. “You have ten minutes. A bathroom is the third door on the left. My study is at the end of the hall.”  
  
Not daring to test her patience further, I followed her inside, ignoring the stares of the guards. Frankly, I was tired of the run-around already. Why couldn't the Elder King have written a simple answer? Once I’d cleaned up as best I was able, I went to the study and closed the door behind me.  
  
I stopped to stare at the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window overlooking the Sea, the sun shining in brilliantly, nearly blinding me. I forced myself to turn away from it and face Nienna, who was sitting in small sitting area, a large chair before her. Her blue eyes studied me from a face framed with long, dark brown hair. I waited for direction. I was here because I was ordered. I would not make this visit easy on anyone.  
  
“Sit down, Makalaurë.” I did so. She said, “Let go straight to the point: you desire to live with your wife, yet she will not move.”  
  
“I have no right to demand that of her. She is her own woman, and does not live to obey my desires. It was my fault we have been separated from her since the Darkening. I would like to live with her again, in her home, as her job as an astronomer means that she must live within a reasonable distance of the observatory. I will not force her to leave the work she loves. Furthermore, I do not wish leave Elrond's service, only to live with Narmincë.”  
  
“And why should we grant this to you?”  
  
“You have no reason.” I stood up and paced to the window, holding up a hand against the glare. “You do not trust me, and I cannot blame you for that. I am a Kinslayer and an Oathtaker. What is my happiness when weighed against that?”  
  
“It was forgiven.”  
  
“But not forgotten. It should never be forgotten. We learned our lesson, multiple times over. I was lucky once; I will not be so again.”  
  
I heard her dress rustle as she moved to stand next to me and waved a hand at the windows to darken them, letting me look out without blinding myself. We stood in silence for a while before she turned away from the window, and I followed her to a small writing desk on the opposite side of the room from the seating area. She sat down on the wooden seat and pulled out a short sheet of paper covered with writing in Tengwar, though I did not recognize the handwriting. She nodded once and handed it to me.  
  
 _I, Kanafinwë Makalaurë Fëanárion, understand that the strictures of my sentence are binding and will not be loosened until otherwise informed. I further understand that these strictures may be tightened as deemed necessary.  
  
I understand that my request to live with my wife Narmincë Hithiel is against these strictures. As a consequence of asking, the Valar are displeased._  
  
As if that would stop me.  
  
 _However, the Valar are willing to accommodate my request if I follow these further strictures:  
1\. That an unclad Maia will be present at all times while I am outside my wife's house._  
  
I stopped reading and tossed the paper onto the desk. “Unacceptable. I will not be humiliated. You either trust me to behave as I have on Elrond's lands without a Maiarin bodyguard or you do not.”  
  
“Then we do not.”  
  
“Then we understand each other. My lady.”  
  
I bowed and walked out of the room, fully intending on finding my room for the night and not leaving. I would let the horses and my guards rest for the night, and we would leave as soon as possible tomorrow morning. There was no reason for me to stay here. I had my answer.  
  
I made it to the landing, disregarding the footsteps behind me, before a Maia clad in armor appeared in front of me. I stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Is the armor truly necessary?”  
  
He did not speak, nor did he move. I leaned against the wall behind me. I could wait.  
  
“Maglor.” I ignored the Valië standing at the bottom of the stairs. “We are not done with our conversation.”  
  
I kept my eyes on the armed Maia. “I think otherwise, my lady. I have my answer. I will abide in Elrond's house per the original strictures. I will not ask again, as I am apparently too much trouble.”  
  
“You are too arrogant,” she said harshly. “You have adjusted far better than we had hoped.”  
  
I finally turned to look at her. “Then give me a chance to prove myself in a place where I do not have protection from the lord of the land. I know my limits and I will not push them.”  
  
“You have just by asking this.”  
  
“No-- I am asserting my rights as a Child of Eru. I am married--”  
  
“You see your wife more than some husbands.”  
  
“If they choose to dwell apart, that is their decision. But I did not have that opportunity.”  
  
“Because you are a criminal.”  
  
“I am forgiven, as you seem so fond of reminding me.”  
  
She headed back down the hallway. “Come to my study, Maglor.”  
  
I glanced over at the Maia blocking my way and resigned myself to yet another difficult discussion. I trudged down the stairs and into her study. The Maia closed the door behind me and I knew he was standing on the other side to prevent another untimely departure. Lady Nienna stood in the center of the room, jaw set. From the fire in her eyes and predatory body language, I was reminded of another being, one whom I had sworn to fight. I could not forget that for all her sorrow, the Valië standing in front of me was one of the Aratar. I raised my head slightly, determined not to apologize, but for the first time, I was afraid.  
  
“Maglor, how little you realize that your strictures are for your safety.”  
  
“As was the Sundering? As was the Pelori?” She didn’t even so much as wince. “Tell me, Lady, how is being unable to defend myself _safe_? No, the strictures are to reassure the populace that I am no threat. You will either let me live with my wife under the same restrictions I live with in Elrond's house or not at all.”  
  
“Please explain how you will have two guards with you at all times.”  
  
I gestured sharply with my right hand. “Why were they there in the first place? To protect me? Or to prove that I was not trusted and that I could be restrained as necessary?”  
  
“You did not answer my question.”  
  
“You did not answer mine, and it is the more germane one for this discussion.”  
  
Her blue eyes bored into mine, but I did not flinch or look away. I was tired of hiding, tired of acting like a meek person. I had never been one, and never would be.  
  
“Answer me this instead, Maglor: why should we grant your request when you have treated me so rudely?”  
  
“You have no reason to.”  
  
Sternly, she said, “Then be glad we are understanding, for if we were not, you would answer to the Elder King in the Máhanaxar.”  
  
I winced, but kept watching her. She walked back to the desk, pulling out another sheet of paper. She handed it to me, and I warily took it.

 

_Permission has been granted. Do not fail our trust.  
The Elder King_

  
  
My mouth dropped open, and I stared at the Tengwar. “Why? Why the farce of refusing me when you had agreed in the first place?”  
  
Nienna sighed. “You need to prove that you can be trusted. Tirn will be enough to discourage the casual troublemaker. You do not need guards. Do not fail us, Makalaurë, for if you do, you will live in Valimar until the Dagor Dagorath.”  
  
I gulped. “I will not fail, my lady.”  
  
She nodded and dismissed me. This time the Maia-- sans armor-- led me to a small chamber on the second floor. I took a swift shower and lay down on the white wicker bed. What the hell had happened between the two letters? Was the first a test or were the Valar evaluating me the entire time? I knew they were capable of communicating silently without my knowledge, and quite able to judge me based on my actions. So why had they decided to approve my request only after I lost my temper?  
  
I rubbed my forehead. Had they decided before my arrival? Or was this entire afternoon a test, and I wouldn’t have received the second letter if I failed? Did they just want proof that I wouldn't meekly accept what happened to me? Did they truly want a Fëanorion living in the general population? Did they want to force a reconciliation? Or did they just want me happy? I groaned and rolled over to stare out the window at the sky. I would never have the answers, but I had the one I’d come here to receive. That was enough-- for now.


	22. Chapter 21

“And then Lady Nienna told me that if I had agreed to the original proposal, the Valar would have refused my request because I wasn't ready to defend myself.”  
  
Glorfindel stared at me, shaking his head slowly. “So it was a test?” I nodded. “It’s times like this I understand why you think the Valar are interfering busybodies. I do not know why someone could not have just told you 'yes' straight off.”  
  
“It's the Valar-- do they need a reason?”  
  
He sipped the last of his red wine and reached out to pour another glass from the bottle on the table set in the courtyard. “When are you leaving?”  
  
“Midsummer, after the solstice. I did agree to perform at the festival when Lindir asked several weeks ago.”  
  
Glorfindel grinned. “As if you would have refused?”  
  
I laughed and drank some wine, silently thanking Elrond for letting me raid his cellar in celebration. “The day that happens is the day I go to Lórien.”  
  
He laughed and looked out over the ocean. “Are you sure you are ready?”  
  
“As ready as I can be. This is the next step-- I can't hide here forever.”  
  
Glorfindel lightly touched my arm and tossed back the last of his wine. “Well, I will come with. No point in you trying to move by yourself.”  
  
I grinned, taking the glass from him. “Thank you. I hate to think what Narmincë would say if I showed up alone.”  


* * * * *

  
  
Two weeks after the solstice, I reined the horse to a stop outside the decorative iron gate in the low wall of Narmincë's small house. My wife waved and pulled the gate open, giving us barely enough room to get the small cart that my horse was pulling into the yard. I jumped down and ran to her, whirling her around and kissing her when I put her back on the ground. To hold her and know I wouldn’t be leaving in days or weeks was fantastic. Tirn jumped out of the cart and ran over to us. Laughing, my wife knelt down and scratched his chest, which I was happy to see.  
  
Only when Glorfindel pushed the gate shut did she stand and thank him. Looking at the two of us she said, “Do you want to eat lunch before we unload the cart? Also, I can show you around so we do not have to move things twice.”  
  
“That would be wonderful, my lady,” I replied, and kissed her lightly.  
  
She put an arm around my waist and led the two of us into the house. I whistled for Tirn as I stepped through the doorway, as I wasn't going to leave him alone with the horse in case he decided to pester it, and he ran into the house, Glorfindel closing the door behind him. Narmincë led us to a room at the back of the small house, where a table for three was set in front of the large window overlooking the backyard, most of which appeared to be a vegetable and herb garden, unlike the front, which was mostly lawn. It was different than many houses I had lived in over the centuries, and was far more homey. It was easy to imagine spending centuries having meals with my family here. We ate some sandwiches-- my wife having made them beforehand-- and after a quick tour, went to bring in my belongings.  
  
There weren't many, mostly books of music, among them the few I had brought from Middle-earth, some knickknacks, and my clothing. It didn't take long to empty the cart, much of it ending up the studio Narmincë had set up for me in the second bedroom on the upper floor. Glorfindel stayed long enough for dinner, but left for an inn down the road since there was no proper stable for the horse.  
  
I spent the rest of the evening unpacking while Narmincë distracted Tirn. Given that the light breeze was cool, I had the window open, thankful for the screen. It had been years since I had heard Quenya-- mostly the Vanyarin version here, not the Noldorin-- spoken as a part of daily life, since Elrond's household generally spoke Sindarin. Children were playing in the yards and streets of the town situated in the between a large plain and a forest, gleeful in the twilight. Conversations among adults weren't terribly hard to make out, though I tried not to pay attention to them, especially the one about what was happening at Narmincë's house.  
  
Once I had organized my books on the shelves, I went downstairs to the living room to find my wife using my dog as a pillow, reading a book about jewelry making in the light of a Fëanorian lamp. Tirn just looked at me, but didn't move. I smiled at the sight, having used him as one occasionally.  
  
Narmincë smiled at me and stood up, marking her place with a bookmark and putting it on a low table in front of the couch. Tirn immediately stood up, shook himself, and trotted over to me. I rubbed an ear before following my wife out the front door. Tirn began sniffing everything in sight, but Narmincë led me to a wooden bench underneath the maple tree. She leaned against me and I automatically wrapped an arm around her waist, breathing in her scent. I watched my shepherd out of the corner of my eyes, but he was happy rolling around in the grass like he was a puppy, though he eventually lay down nearby.  
  
I watched the stars come out, brilliant even though we in the middle of town. In Middle-earth, I would have been lucky to see a sixteenth of them in a town of over ten thousand. It was a relief to be back with people who understood the importance of the night sky even in an urban area. Softly, so that only Narmincë could hear me, I began to sing. Right now, I didn't want to draw attention, only to spend time with my wife. After the song was over, she wiggled out of my grasp and sat up, grinning in challenge.  
  
I joined her only a couple measures in, weaving a harmony around her gentle alto. We kept the song quiet, but a few people walking along looked in the gate, all but one person smiling. I smiled back. Shortly after midnight, too tired to stay up longer, we went inside. I watched her undress, and she smiled when she saw me looking. I crawled into bed, dressed only in sleep pants, and kissed her soundly when she lay down next to me. Her hands slipped into my waistband, but she removed them when I covered a yawn with a hand. “Tomorrow, then,” she whispered, and settled herself against me.  


* * * * *

  
  
The next morning, I woke up with her arm around my waist. I lay there for a couple minutes before Tirn's pacing-- he always knew when I was up-- grew to be too annoying and I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Narmincë, to let him out. Rather than go indoors, I happily stayed outside and watched the soft grays of dawn turn into pinks and oranges, lightening the sky from black to blue. The birds were singing in the forest-- there was only one street of houses between us-- and the air was fresh. That, I still hadn't become accustomed to. Many mortals no longer had any idea of what fresh was. When I finally came back inside, a hungry Tirn at my heels, Narmincë handed me a cup of tea.  
  
“I'll show you around town today. Do you know much of the modern Vanyarin language?”  
  
I shook my head and sipped the steaming tea. “Just a little.”  
  
“You’ll have to learn it, or use Noldorin. Not many here speak Sindarin.”  
  
I snorted into my tea. Thousands of years certainly hadn't done anything to unite the languages-- far from. Telerin was its own language as it had been in the past, and now quite removed from Quenya. Noldorin was still intelligible to me, though barely. Vanyarin was not. No one had been willing to give up their linguistic and cultural heritage-- or linguistic beauty standards-- to form a language with elements from both, no matter they’d evolved from the same language in the first place. It was of no matter to Elves to learn multiple languages to communicate. After all, the Exiles had done it in Beleriand. So I had to rectify my lack of Vanyarin given I now lived in a majority Vanyarin town.  
  
While Narmincë cooked breakfast, I poked around the kitchen, learning where she kept things. After I cleaned up afterward-- it was only fair-- we left the house, Tirn on leash.  
  
At this time of day, the streets were crowded, most people likely heading to work, and I wondered how many worked at the observatory and other scientific laboratories the town was known for. Rather than hurry, Narmincë took her time showing us around, stopping to talk to people and introduce me. I was uncomfortable with it, and usually didn't speak unless I was spoken to. Still, after the first couple times, it grew a little easier, though I knew part of it was the fact that I hadn't dared to get to know anyone too closely on Middle-earth. Talking with people I didn't know had caused too many problems for me to feel comfortable with it even nearly a decade after my departure. But I knew the reasoning behind the introductions-- to make it quite clear that I wasn't hiding nor trying to evade my strictures.  
  
For that was what most people were curious about, and I swiftly grew tired of answering the same questions over and over. Children, on the other hand, were mostly curious about Tirn. I didn't mind answering their questions, though some of them wondered why I needed a guard dog. That I let their parents handle.  
  
Still, I enjoyed the tour. Narmincë pointed out the library, the main governmental buildings (the town answered to no lord and functioned with an elected council system), the large amphitheater built into the side of a constructed hill with a large park on the other side, her favorite restaurant, and some other places, including the farmer's market where she normally shopped. It reminded me of some cities and towns in Middle-earth, from places around the world, but mainly Rome and Oxford. We stopped for lunch of cheese and bread at midday, which we’d bought from a stall at the market, eating in the park near the small river that bisected the town. Tirn lay down next to me, never taking his eyes off the food, though he was too well-trained to grab for it.  
  
It was a relaxing end to the morning. Narmincë had shown me all over town, making it a point to show me how to get to the observatory and the other places she frequented. She wouldn’t hide me away or be ashamed of me, a fact I would be eternally grateful for. I leaned over and kissed her, which brought a gleam to her eyes. After we finished eating, we hurried back home, never letting go of each other’s hands, leaving Tirn outside so we wouldn't be disturbed in the bedroom.  


* * * * *

  
  
Over the next couple years, I slowly adjusted to the faster paced life in the town. It hadn’t been easy, but I hadn’t expected it to be. Narmincë's neighbors didn't make a fuss at living near a Kinslayer, though I had found out only a couple days after my arrival I was the only one in town. That wasn't surprising to me, given how few of us there were in comparison to the current population of Valinor. What did surprise me was the lack of animosity many held. I had thought Tirion was an aberration due to the festival. Maybe Elrond was right-- the intervening millennia had forced the Eldar to gain some perspective. Of course, that wasn't to say there weren't people who didn't like me. Too many times people ignored me, and I learned to avoid one music store entirely after being snubbed one too many times. Tirn learned a new command-- to stand between me and everyone else, so I could have room, for some people tried to crowd me in order to get me to leave. I was further grateful for his presence, as he had prevented a few incidents.  
  
But I wasn't letting my fear or others' prejudices interfere too much with my life, though there were times when it was simply too hard to leave the house. Those were the times I was glad I no longer lived alone, even though Narmincë didn't fully understand, she at least supported me.  
  
I continued writing my family and friends, especially Grandfather and Vola, though Elrond and Glorfindel were frequent recipients as well. I even had a short letter from Mother, which didn't state much, but at least she was now willing to communicate with me. I was also making friends with some of the musicians in the town, though one of them made it quite clear that my unavoidably mortal-influenced music was unwelcome. I ignored him, though I knew he was only stating the thoughts of many of the Eldar.  
  
As I grew more comfortable, I started tutoring, though I didn't have many students. I knew part of it was my lack of knowledge of contemporary Eldarin music and the history that led to it, part was my style, but the majority of it was my past. I could not deny that while most people were comfortable in conversing with me, few wanted to deepen an acquaintance into a friendship. It made for some lonely evenings, when Narmincë went out with her friends, for I knew my presence would be a damper. But there were a few people I did come to count as my friends-- a Noldorin musician, a Vanya who had lost both legs above the knee in the War of Wrath and used a wheelchair for mobility, and a pair of half-Sindarin, half-Vanyarin fraternal twins who were loremasters. They, along with my wife, encouraged me in the project that I had begun when I still lived in Elrond's house-- a song cycle detailing my years in Middle-earth. I had an ulterior motive as well: to prove to disbelieving Eldar that mortals were not inferior. Many wouldn't listen, but I had to try, to show my thanks to the people who had helped me over the millennia. It was the only thing I could do for them, and I would do my best.


	23. Chapter 22

“I can't do this.”  
  
Narmincë stepped in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. “Yes, you can.”  
  
Glorfindel leaned over to Elrond and said, “I told you we should have brought Lindir.”  
  
Celebrían snorted while Elrond shook his head. She recovered and said, “Competition would not help him right now.”  
  
“His support may have.” I stepped out of my wife's way and resumed pacing. Thankfully, everyone else-- save Glorfindel's wife who was outside playing with Tirn-- had already gone to the amphitheater so they could be seated. Given the number of people who had swarmed the town over the past week, my friends and family were lucky to have reserved seats. Everyone else had to fend for themselves. Finally, though, it was time for us to leave. I took a deep breath and headed out the gate, violin in one hand, Narmincë on my other arm, with Tirn trotting next to me.  
  
Once at the amphitheater, everyone but Narmincë left to take their seats. I looked at the sun slowly turning orange in the twilight. The concert would start at sundown. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Logistics-wise, this was no different than many concerts I had given. Only the circumstances were different. I could do this. My wife and I hurried backstage, where the manager took one look at Tirn and protested that there were guards on the entrances.  
  
I raised an eyebrow-- when I was planning this, I’d told multiple people he’d be with me-- and said, “He will not be going onstage with me, but will be waiting offstage. He won’t move.”  
  
She gave me a skeptical look and said, “You will tie him down.”  
  
“No. He’ll stay where he’s told, as he was trained to do.”  
  
She frowned and stalked off. Narmincë giggled and handed me my violin, taking Tirn's leash from me. I checked to make sure that everything was ready-- the stand where it was needed, a stool centered in the middle of the large stage on which I could sit. And large it was-- there were two drama groups in town and they used every inch of it. I felt overwhelmed being on it, but the one in Tirion was larger. I just had to remember that.  
  
I walked back to Narmincë, who was peering out the side of the curtain; Tirn lay down and panted next to her. She gently kissed me.  
  
“Please tell me there are no Valar out there.”  
  
“Not that I can see. And no Maiar either. Just a lot of people.”  
  
“Joy.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and kissed me again. “It will not be that bad.”  
  
“Says one of the Amaneldi to a Fëanorion.”  
  
“Hush. I will not tell you not to think about it, but don't dwell on it either. Focus on your music.”  
  
She kissed me again, handed me Tirn's leash, and went to her front row seat next to Elrond. I told my dog to stay, dropped the leash, and walked to my spot. I tuned my violin and warmed up my vocal cords. Only a few more minutes. There was still time for me to cancel. No, I couldn't run. Not now. Not ever again.  
  
Finally, the manager came over to me to check one last time that I was ready. After I acknowledged I was, she retreated to the wings. I watched her count down with her fingers out of the corner of my eyes and concentrated on the heavy curtain as it was swiftly raised. I glanced over the crowd, a blur of faces and multicolored clothes that I refused to focus on, and began to play the haunting melody of the _Noldolantë_.  
  
As the music grew around me, I lost any attention I had on the crowd, focusing on playing to the best of my abilities. Woven around the lament were fragments of happier times in Beleriand: my brother's return from torment on Thangorodrim, the small victories, the great defeats, the horrific final Kinslayings, the time I spent raising the Peredhil, the War of Wrath, and the final actions of Maedhros and me. From there, after playing the final verse of the _Noldolantë_ , I switched styles.  
  
I played the sounds of the shore, which I wandered for nearly six hundred years. And then I lowered the violin and sang of the deaf woman who brought me out of my shell, the people who helped me further and whom I had helped in return, the far shores of the world, the tribe of the Avari I had the misfortune to meet, and the merchants in Harad who brought me news of my foster son. I played and sang of mortal history when all the Quendi but me were gone or no longer in contact with the mortal world. I sang of the pyramids and the other works of Men, the dynasties and empires, kingdoms great and small, nations forming and collapsing. I played the triumphs and the falls, the dark and the light. I played and sang of mortal history, interweaving my personal history with it. I finally ended as I began: playing the melody of the _Noldolantë_ but rather than leaving at the end, I played on, a brighter melody, one that spoke of hope tempered with regret, but hope nonetheless.  
  
I slowly lowered the violin, exhausted after playing and singing for well over an hour. I looked up at the crowd, fearing what their silence meant. But applause began, softly at first and then building to a standing ovation. I put my violin on its stand, and bowed. The curtain dropped, and I could still hear the crowds' approval clearly. I sat down on the stool, too tired to stand. The manager came over to me with a large glass of water. I gratefully took it from her and slowly sipped it, letting the cool liquid coat my dry mouth and throat.  
  
My performance had gone over far better than I had expected, and that was both a shock and a relief. The Eldar could very well like my music and still hate me. Yet right now, I was too tired to care. I’d done it-- my first solo concert since my return, and that triumph was enough for now. But it wouldn’t last, and I wouldn’t let myself think about it. Tonight was a good night.  
  
I finished the glass and put it on the floor next to the stool. I packed my violin and headed over the wings to meet my wife. She took the violin from me and gave me a hug. “Before you say it, I know I have heard you practise. But I think that was the best performance I have heard you give.”  
  
I grinned and kissed her soundly. “Right now, all I want is to sleep.”  
  
“That will not happen-- everyone has made plans to invade our house.”  
  
I shook my head and followed her out, Tirn behind me. “Let's see… Elrond I can convince I need my sleep. If he orders me to bed--”  
  
“Like a child, Father?” he said, amused, coming up next to us. “No, you can stay up for a couple hours and celebrate.”  
  
I should have known. “Celebrate what? The Eldar liked my music, but will that change anything? No.”  
  
“You do not know that,” Glorfindel said from my other side. “It may change some minds.”  
  
Rather than join the large crowd streaming back into town, we waited backstage until most of them had left. I was no celebrity now, but that mattered little. I was an infamous Kinslayer who just happened to be one of the best Eldarin musicians in existence. There would always be-- and had always been-- people who desired to talk to me after performances. Tonight, I was in no mood to deal with them. Still, there was a small crowd, but my family gathered around me and we ignored them.  
  
We reached our house without being bothered terribly. Tirn was let off-leash and he simply curled up on his bed in the corner of the living room. Our guests spread out while I hurried upstairs to put my violin up, as well as change out of my performance clothing into something more comfortable. When I came back downstairs, Elrond handed me a glass of wine and they toasted me. I leaned against a nearby wall, watching my family and friends mingle.  
  
It was hard to believe that so many people were related to me, or were friends with me. It was even harder to see Vola and Glorfindel tossing jokes back and forth. Elrond and Narmincë were in the kitchen discussing who-knew-what, while Celebrían and Nárë were talking about a new science fiction novel they’d read. Celebrimbor, on the other hand, leaned against the wall next to me. I’d been surprised and grateful he’d come, but then, he was the one member of my biological family to remain in regular contact with me. I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see him, especially because he’d always enjoyed my singing.  
  
“We each have our way of dealing with our choices. I do not think people would have accepted anything less from you than this song cycle.”  
  
“They wouldn't have. You do realize that once people hear that it wasn't bad, I'm going to be requested to perform it all over Valinor?”  
  
My nephew grinned. “Of course. Was that not your plan?”  
  
I shook my head. “I just wanted to perform it, to make people understand. I should have realized that no matter my past, people still want my music.”  
  
“They always will, Uncle.” He sighed and looked at his wine. “Empathy… We may learn it yet. You made a large step forward. I wonder how many will be willing to consider the idea of traveling the Straight Road now?”  
  
He wandered away, joining Glorfindel and Vola's conversation. I stayed against the wall, listening to them talk, the conversations blurring together in a tired haze. Rather than fall asleep standing up, I made my way through the room, talking to people, making it quite clear that I was too tired to socialize. But Vola drew me aside when I reached him.  
  
“Maglor, do you think you could come visit me?”  
  
“Wouldn't it be too dangerous?”  
  
“No. My village is… accommodating. There are several Kinslayers who live there.” He smiled. “Not all the Teleri hate you. We made a choice to forgive your family and followers and we stand by it. I do not need an answer right now, Maglor. Just think about it.”  
  
After I agreed, he rejoined Glorfindel. I wandered up to the bedroom after kissing Narmincë good night. I changed into my sleeping garments and lay in bed, too tired too sleep, and my mind wouldn't stop jumping from topic to topic, always coming back to Vola's proposal. I couldn't make a decision-- I had to talk to Elrond first. With that thought ringing through my mind, I finally fell asleep.

* * * * *

  
  
After lunch the next day, Elrond and I talked in my studio. When I told him what Vola proposed, he grew still.  
  
“If you are asking for permission, I give it. Just be careful-- I have been to Vola's village and they are more accepting. If you end up in Alqualondë… I cannot guarantee anything.”  
  
“I don't plan on visiting Alqualondë, Elrond. I want to visit my friend. I know to be careful. Tirn won't be far from me.”  
  
“Tirn may not be enough. But I think you need to do this.”  
  
I nodded and looked at the brilliantly lit, south-facing room. There was so much I had to learn, and Telerin music had always interested me. And, yes, if I could, I would go see the quays. I had to face them eventually, either in nightmares or in person. And better the latter, though the former would always be with me.  
  
After discussing it a little longer, Elrond and I went downstairs. He and Celebrían left after saying their farewells, for they had a longer distance to travel. Glorfindel and his wife had left that morning, going to her parents' house for a long visit. Celebrimbor wouldn't leave for Tirion until the following morning, with Vola traveling with.  
I drew Vola aside. “I'll visit, but I don't know when. I believe I will shortly have more things to deal with here than normal.  
  
He grinned and clapped me on the back. “Just let me know when.”  
  
I nodded and he waded back into the conversation between my nephew and friend. I sat down on the bench and slowly stroked Tirn, who leaned against my legs. I watched my friends and family talking and laughing together, feeling a tear make its slow way down my face. This was what I had missed all these millennia. This was what the Oath had destroyed. Only now was I lucky enough to have regained something of what I had lost. I would never regain it all. But I was content with this.


	24. Chapter 23

Two years later, after I had performed several more concerts of the song cycle, I was finally able to visit Vola. Narmincë had no desire to visit, so I borrowed a horse and traveled with only Tirn as my companion. Surprisingly, even though I made an effort to camp rather than stay in inns where I may not be welcome, those I passed treated me civilly. Only a few occasions over the week and a half on the road were bad. Tirn’s presence kept them from doing much beyond muttering, though a trio followed me for two days. Those nights I spent at inns, preferring the presence of others. Most Eldar would not want blood shed on their property.  
  
After spending the night with my nephew in Tirion-- I made no attempt to visit the rest of my extended family-- I headed into the traditional Eldarin territory. Things had changed, and yet they hadn’t. Farms were still worked, shops still patronized, people still lived there. Yet, as I drew closer to Alqualondë, I couldn’t help but notice less subtle changes-- there were walls around some estates. Guards were posted in the larger villages. And I knew better than to stop, for they did not look happy to see me. Cresting a small rise, I spotted the sprawling city of Alqualondë. It was larger, of course, but the older section didn’t appear terribly different. I only glanced at the quays, not wanting to remember. Reaching the crossroads at the bottom, I took the road that circumvented it. I would not dare to enter the city alone.  
  
I reached Vola’s house three hours after the sun set. He opened the door when he heard my horse stop in front of it and rushed out, silver hair flashing in the moonlight. Tirn woofed quietly, but rapidly wagged his tail. I dismounted, and stood by the horse’s head, not sure of what to do with him. Vola smiled. “My daughter can take him to the stable. You come inside.”  
  
I nodded and waited until his daughter appeared and led him off. I followed my friend into the brightly lit house and stared at the crowd of people: Vola’s family. I didn’t spot his parents, but wasn’t surprised. The rest of his family-- his brother, his son-in-law, his triplet grandchildren, and Vola’s wife-- were sitting around the large room, talking. All of them looked up at me when we walked in, and one of the triplets (the only boy) ran over. I picked him up and tossed him into the air, catching him. His identical twin sisters ran over as well, and I did the same to them. It broke the tension that was in the air, and I was handed a glass of water to quench my thirst. Tirn was taken off to the kitchen, where he had a bowl placed for him in a corner. Once he wandered back out to the living room-- where I had become engaged in a conversation about modern Telerin music and which person was the better composer-- he was surrounded by the triplets, who thankfully knew enough at their age to not pester him instead of pet. Mortal children would not have been so kind.  
  
Shortly after midnight, Vola’s daughter’s family headed to their own house across the large garden. Tirn, at that point, was curled up in the corner, deeply asleep. The fire crackled in the fireplace, more for atmosphere than a need for light or heat. I leaned against the couch cushions, now holding a half-full glass of red wine, watching the light reflect off the liquid.  
  
“Maglor?” Vola’s brother Orna said.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I hope you do not mind sleeping on the couch. I am leaving in two days, but--”  
  
“The couch is soft. Better I’m down here for Tirn’s sake, anyway.” I yawned, covering my mouth with my free hand. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”  
  
“Then I guess we had better let you sleep. Sorry, Maglor, we are just excited,” Vola said from where he was playing a game of something similar to chess with his wife Calca.  
  
I refrained from asking why they were excited about having a Fëanorion visit, and grabbed one of my bags. Calca banked the fire while I quickly washed myself and changed into sleeping attire. When I came out of the bathroom, the couch had been mostly made up into a bed. Orna had already disappeared upstairs, as had Calca. Vola was standing by the couch, a blanket in hand. I dropped my stuff at the foot of the couch, knowing I’d have to move it in the morning, and took the blanket from my friend.  
  
“Thank you,” I said. “You don’t know what this means to me.”  
  
He had a strange, faraway look in his eyes. “Yes, I do.” He nodded slightly and headed up the stairs, leaving me standing confused by the couch. I sighed, finished making the bed, and slipped underneath the covers. I gazed at the carvings on the wooden pillars separating the living room from the kitchen, trying to calm enough to sleep. They danced slightly in the light from the dim embers, and I fell into dreams populated by shadows and fire.  
  
I woke up the next morning when Tirn nudged my face with his cold nose. I shot upright, wiping my cheek with a sleeve. I glared at him, but got out of bed. I leashed and led him to an out-of-the-way spot in the garden and waited in the chilly morning air, cold enough for my breath to show. We went back inside, just in time for me to turn my bed back into a couch. The bedding, along with my packs, went into a small hall closet. By the time I had dressed, Orna had started making a breakfast of pancakes. I set the table, determined not to be lazy. Vola only stumbled downstairs when they were ready, a fact which his brother and wife teased him over. I didn’t bother to hide my smirk-- that at least hadn’t changed.  
  
After breakfast, Vola showed me around the small village. And it was small-- a little less than three hundred people lived there. As he showed me around, I started to relax. People greeted me the same way they greeted him: friendly. There were only a few hard stares, and the couple I had seen in Sirion over a decade ago grinned at me. I recognized Telerin building designs, Noldorin, and even a couple Sindarin and Vanyarin. The central courtyard had a large fountain in the middle of it, with the water deep enough for small children to swim in. The tavern was directly across from the small governmental building, which consisted of a large library and a smaller office that dealt with all the miscellany that needed the entire community’s attention. The streets were cobblestone, and the businesses lined the main road, though the residences were off the side roads. The surrounding areas was farmland, though the ocean could be seen in the distance. Alqualondë, even though it was only a couple hours away, due to the rise and fall of the land, could not be seen. That fact, for a reason I preferred not to dwell on, made me feel safer, as did the lack of any guards. Over lunch at the tavern, I asked Vola why.  
  
“We do not need them. All of us know how to fight, but more importantly, we know when not to. We have little of value here, and do not anticipate trouble.”  
  
“What Vola is not mentioning,” a Vanya seated nearby said. “Is that we’ve deliberately integrated anyone who wants to live here, Kinslayer or Slain, Amaneldi or Úmanyar, mixed kindred or pure: the divisions don’t matter. We do not let them drive a wedge here as they can elsewhere. We respect the differences; we do not force them.”  
  
“And that helps?”  
  
“It may. There are even a couple Avari who live here. With people from many of the divisions we suffer, it is hard to deny that we can live together and also harder to kill us.”  
  
“Have there been threats?”  
  
“At first, especially when we made it clear that Kinslayers were welcome. There were people who were planning on moving here and did not. It is not easy for anyone.”  
  
“And then there are the visiting loremasters,” Vola said, rolling his eyes. “We are not a social experiment to study. I know we are not perfect here-- there is still prejudice-- but we are a damn sight better than parts of Valinor.”  
  
I nodded continued eating, listening to the talk around me, flowing in and out of various tongues. I smiled to myself. Maybe this was what Valinor was supposed to be like.  


* * * * *

  
  
Over the next two weeks, I started wandering about on my own, talking to various people, though I spent a lot of time in the library or with a couple of musicians. Vola gave me a Telerin flute, though the burn scar on my right hand made playing it difficult. And I swiftly realized that the musical code we had worked out with our friends was commonplace in the village. That, more than almost anything, made me feel welcome. So it was with a cold dash of reality that Vola invited me to visit Alqualondë. Before I could refuse, he produced a letter and handed it to me.  
  
 _Vola,_  
You know I am unable to travel-- I am behind on a project and the deadline is in two weeks. If you and my son want to see me, come for lunch in a week. I can spare a couple hours then.  
Nerdanel  
  
My mouth dropped open. “She wants to see me?”  
  
Vola grinned. “I knew that would get your attention. Yes, she does. I would not have asked her otherwise. You never have, have you?”  
  
I shook my head, still staring at the scribbled note. “I’ll go, of course. But I’ll wear a cloak.”  
  
“I’d wear one anyway-- it is probably going to rain tomorrow. There are clouds moving in from the sea.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “Then I’ll leave Tirn here. No sense in dragging a wet and muddy dog into her house.”  
  
“Not to mention it would make you stand out. Tirn is rather distinctive here, Maglor. Our sheepdogs are smaller and colored differently. Besides, my grandchildren can play with him.”  
  
I grinned. “True. And that way, he’ll be exhausted when we return.”  
  
“We can leave immediately after breakfast. I need to see someone before we meet your mother-- it is about a performance I am giving at the winter solstice-- but it will not take long.”  


* * * * *

  
  
True to his word, we left after breakfast, with it raining. I frowned past the hood of my waterproof cloak. The storm wouldn’t last long, but it would be a pain traveling during it. Once through the gate of Alqualondë, we boarded the horses for the day and headed into town. I kept my hood up, but given it was still sprinkling, so did everyone else. Knowing that my safety relied upon blending in, I paid little attention to the multicolored buildings around me, even when I realized where Vola was going. And I realized why he hadn’t told me where the person he needed to see was. We were going to the quays. Knowing I couldn’t protest without possibly revealing myself, I followed him, watching the crowd, many of whom were armed. But no one paid any attention to us, and I started to relax. I was safe enough under my cloak.  
  
Vola stopped at a small booth near the plaza leading to the quays and switched to modern Telerin, rather than the Sindarin we’d been using. I studied at the crowd in the plaza, watching the children play in the rain, their parents watching them indulgently. Through the mass of people, I spotted a marble statue of a swan ship and tapped Vola on the shoulder. I pointed to it with my left hand, and he nodded, turning back to his conversation.  
  
I made my way through the crowd to the statue, realizing as I grew closer exactly what it was. A memorial, for the words on it were the names of all those Teleri slain on that terrible night. The swan ship placed on top of the pedestal was a perfect replica of the ships, right down to the eyes of jet. The names were carved with precision, and the ones colored black must be those still in Mandos, for Vola’s name was not black, nor were some others I recognized. I circled the memorial, returning to the front, blank save for the words _In Remembrance Of Those Slain, That It May Never Happen Again_. I placed my hands on the words, running them over the carved Tengwar. I made my way back to Vola’s name and placed my right hand on it, tears forming, remembering that terrible night. Caught up in my memories, I did not recognize the soft, ringing scrape of steel on leather as something real until the point of the weapon pressed against my back.


	25. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to SurgicalSteel for the medical beta on this chapter.

“Remove your cloak and turn around- slowly.”  
  
I froze, jarred out of my memories. Why had I not been paying attention to me surroundings? Just because no one had paid me any mind obviously did not mean that someone hadn’t recognized me. I did as directed, because it was pointless to resist, loosening the clasp and letting the garment fall about my feet to the wet stone. Keeping my hands visible, I slowly turned around, trying to compose my face but unable to hide my fear. Once I had fully turned around, the man brought the sword tip to my throat.  
  
“I thought I recognized you, Kinslayer,” he said in mildly accented Quenya.  
  
The crowd was silent behind him, the only noise the light patter of rain on the stone. The only movement were parents hurrying children away, though Vola hadn’t yet noticed my predicament. I did not blame the parents given I did not know how this would turn out. While the Teler could certainly kill with the sword, it was quite obvious that it was there to keep me still and under control, but I did not think that I would get away unscathed.  
  
“Why did you come here?”  
  
Barely able to keep a tremor out of my voice, I responded, “To Alqualondë or the memorial?”  
  
“Both,” he said, moving the point closer to my throat.  
  
“To see my mother to the former and to examine it to the latter. I did not know it existed until I saw it. So I came over.”  
  
“So you could gloat?”  
  
Wary of the sword, I slowly shook my head. “To remember my folly and to mourn.”  
  
He and several other Elves in the crowd laughed harshly. “To mourn? You?”  
  
He lowered the sword and I relaxed slightly, never taking my eyes off the Teler. He did indeed sheath the blade, but rather than stand down further, he shifted his stance to a combat position. I tried to back up a step, but two Elves caught me and held me still. I struggled slightly, but could not remove their painful grips on my arms. The man with the sword smiled, drew back his fist, and punched me in the jaw. At the same moment, the two holding my arms released me, causing me to stumble back that one step and crack my head on the memorial. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was the man grinning and raising his fist again.

* * * * *

  
  
I groaned, head throbbing in time with my pulse. I knew that from the soft mattress I was lying on that I was no longer in the plaza next to the quays. But that did not answer where I was, or what had happened after I lost consciousness. I opened my eyes, finding a dimly lit room and someone sitting by my bed, silhouetted by the light behind. I tried to make my eyes focus, but it hurt too much.  
  
“Oh, Makalaurë, you truly do know how to get into trouble.”  
  
“Mother,” I whispered. “Where am I?”  
  
“The healers’. You will not be going anywhere for the next few days-- you are too badly injured.”  
  
“I’m aware,” I whispered dryly. “What happened?”  
  
“After you fell unconscious, your attackers kept beating you until Vola and a couple others pulled them off you. Your left hand is in a splint, so do not try to do anything with it.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I am not a healer, so I do not know. I arrived here just a little while ago, because Vola needed to talk to the guards.”  
  
I groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”  
  
“That depends on King Olwë. He will talk to you once you have recovered more.”  
  
I groaned again and closed my eyes. This was not what I needed. One simple little trip to Alqualondë to visit my mother. I should have known something would happen.  
  
I heard the door open and shut and quiet footsteps come to the other side of the bed. I opened my eyes again to see a Teler standing over me. I tried to recoil, but my body protested and all I could do was gasp in pain.  
  
“Try not to move, Maglor, unless you want to make your injuries worse,” Mother said.  
  
I frowned, not wanting to move my head again. “Which are?”  
  
The healer answered as she examined me, “A concussion along with a cut from where your head hit the memorial that had to be sutured and your left hand has fractures that we had to operate on to realign and fix with plates and screws. There is also severe bruising and scrapes, some of which _also_ have sutures, and several broken ribs. You were lucky it was not worse.”  
  
“I know. Is there anything I can take for the pain?” I asked, glancing at the IV going into my right arm.  
  
Her lips thinned. “We’re already giving you opiates. Someone will bring some ice-- it should help.” I nodded, gasping when the pain grew worse. She said, “Just rest. It’s the best thing for you right now.”  
  
Just a few minutes after my hand was iced, I fell asleep.

* * * * *

  
  
The next time I woke up, Mother was gone but Vola was sitting in the chair, reading. I cleared my throat and he looked up.  
  
“Welcome back. Your mother said you were awake for a few minutes with her. How do you feel?”  
  
“It hurts,” I said, in too much pain to be polite. “And could I have some water?”  
  
He held out a glass of water with a glass straw in it. A straw-- like I was a child. Of course, given how helpless I was at the moment, it was appropriate. I was only able to drink half the glass, but it helped somewhat. “When did you figure out I was in trouble?”  
  
“When my friend’s eyes widened. Neither of us heard the sword being drawn, but when you went down, someone started screaming. By the time I reached you, there were four Teleri…” He glanced away and then back. “With the blood pooling around you, I wasn’t sure if you were going to survive. We pulled them off you, and the ambulance came a few moments later.”  
  
“Next time, let’s not bring me to Alqualondë.”  
  
Vola laughed nervously. “I agree. Anyplace else would have been better.”  
  
“I can think of a couple that would be worse, and both start with ‘m’.”  
  
He sobered. “Anyway, you need to rest.”  
  
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the pain I was in, but he turned back to his book. I glanced at the ceiling and noticed for the first time it had a mural painted on it. At least I had something to look at, which was probably the entire point.

* * * * *

  
  
Three days later, I was finally allowed out of bed. Still, my recovery was slower than I liked, especially my left hand. The attackers had certainly known what they were doing when they’d used a sword hilt to break my bones. The healers had assured me everything would heal in time, but I had only to glance at the scar on my right hand to know otherwise. Of course, that scar would never fade, due to what had given it to me. Still, the healers had me doing range-of-motion exercises with my left hand so I would regain the most mobility as fast as possible. And yet, I knew that my playing would be affected.  
  
I sighed and stared at the now boring ceiling, in far less pain than when I had originally woke up, and the IV and sutures had been removed that morning as I didn’t need them anymore. I was alone in the room, but given that one of the assistants had told me King Olwë had arrived just a short while ago, it wouldn’t last. And then I would find out exactly how much trouble I was in.  
  
The king walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. I sat up, leaning against the headboard. “Your Majesty.”  
  
Olwë sat down on the chair and studied me. “Once again blood has been spilled on the quays of Alqualondë, Fëanorion. I know why you came here. I also know what happened was not your fault, though I do lay some of the blame at your feet simply by your presence.”  
  
“I was not the one who approached my mother--”  
  
“Telepevola and I have already discussed this. The matter has been closed. You are not legally at fault.” His stern eyes met mine. “Once you are able, you are to leave. I do not want you in Alqualondë again, though because of your mother’s presence, I will not forbid it.”  
  
“As you wish, Your Majesty. If it makes a difference, I don’t plan on returning.”  
  
His eyes glinted just a bit with humor. “No, it isn’t worth it. Now, as for the matter of your attackers. They have been imprisoned, and they will be exiled. I contemplated sending them to Lord Elrond, but he has to deal with you.”  
  
I closed my eyes. Elrond. How much of this was going to reflect on him? Once again, the son would be acting more like a father.  
  
“In the end, I decided that sending them to Tirion was best. They are leaving tomorrow. You will not see them unless you wish to.”  
  
I nodded, not sure of what to say. The Valar obviously hadn’t become involved, so they _had_ learned. Until now, I hadn’t truly believed it. As for sending them to Tirion, I wasn’t sure what that would do, save force them to live amongst Kinslayers, which was possibly the entire purpose.  
  
“Maglor.” I glanced up at the king. “We forgave our grief at the end of the First Age. We have not forgotten. Walk carefully.”  
  
With that, he stood up and swept from the room, closing the door behind him. It opened moments later, a healer entering the room. I let him examine me, and gratefully took the mild painkiller pill. I would be released tomorrow, as long as I spent the next week or so resting. There was no further need to keep me here. That alone I was thankful for, grinning only once I was alone in the room.

* * * * *

  
  
I spent two days resting on the bed in the guest room of Vola’s house, or on the couch. Vola, at first, kept apologizing until I lost my temper. “It wasn’t your fault! You didn’t know someone had recognized me, much less that they would be willing to attack without provocation. The matter has been taken care of. I’m fine.”  
  
“Now.”  
  
“Yes, thanks to healers who didn’t care who I was, or at least not enough to let me suffer overly much. You broke up the fight. That’s all I could ask for.”  
  
Vola stopped apologizing after that. Due to my restrictions, I ended up watching the triplets, who were content to play with Tirn for hours, when I wasn’t using him as support or to fetch things for me. I received a letter from Narmincë my first day back at Vola’s house, in which she scolded me for being so stupid, that she wasn’t going to come down there since I had mostly recovered by the time she got the letter, and that I would be sleeping in my studio when I returned home. Vola only laughed when I told him that, remembering all too well the nights I had spent on his couch when Narmincë and I had fought in the Years of the Trees. Elrond’s letter, on the other hand, was short and to the point. I was to go immediately to the House upon my medical clearance to travel alone. That letter did not make happy, but there was no avoiding it. This whole journey had turned into a fiasco.  
  
A week after my return to Vola’s house, the village healer cleared me for travel. As she packed up her equipment, she said, “Take it easy. You still have not returned to full strength. If possible, sleep indoors.”  
  
I nodded and she left the room. I sat on the bed and watched Tirn frolicking with the triplets out in the grassy area of the garden. It was time to go home.  
  
The next morning after breakfast, I was in the guest room, packing the last of my belongings, when a loud crack echoed in the small room. Tirn barked sharply and I turned to look at whatever it was that had caused the noise, only to see Eönwë dressed in his formal herald’s uniform. He had a rather displeased expression on his face and was holding in his right hand a piece of folded parchment bearing the seal of the Elder King.  
  
“Shit.”


	26. Chapter 25

Four days later, I signaled my horse to stop and I dismounted. The ring of thrones was directly in front of me, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from it. Everything that had happened here, both in the First Age and now… Being here was one of the last things I wanted. I brushed off my tunic as best I was able, knowing the sooner I entered it, the better.  
  
“Father?”  
  
“I should get this over with.”  
  
“You should clean up first. You are a mess.”  
  
I faced Elrond reluctantly, uneasy about turning my back on the Máhanaxar. “Promptness or cleanliness?”  
  
Narmincë-- who I was surprised and delighted to see-- said, “The Valar have bodies-- I do not think they want to smell horse.”  
  
I laughed. I was in enough trouble; I didn’t need to offend them. We mounted our horses and the two led me to the inn Elrond and I had stayed at during my first trial. I swiftly bathed and changed into something more formal before walking to the Ring of Doom, leaving Tirn with Narmincë. I ignored the other Elves who followed us. I could not concentrate on anything but what would shortly happen, not even Narmincë putting aside her anger at me in order to be here.  
  
I stopped at the edge of the stone paving. I closed my eyes, ignoring the empty thrones, taking deep, measured breaths to calm myself. I could not afford to panic. When I opened them, I was looking directly at the Elder King. I stepped into the center of the now-occupied ring, bowed only as deeply as protocol demanded, and stood in silence, refusing to squirm under the harsh stares of the Valar.  
  
Manwë spoke. “Maglor Fëanorion, we had hoped that we would not be forced to call you before us.”  
  
 _So did I_ , I thought to myself, knowing better than to be flippant no matter how dearly I was tempted.  
  
Mandos said, “What part of ‘Thou shall do nothing to cause a disturbance of the peace of Valinor’ did you not understand?”  
  
I blinked. “I understood it perfectly. I did not travel to Alqualondë to instigate a fight, but rather to visit my mother. You cannot-- and should not-- hold me responsible for the actions of others.”  
  
“But did you do enough to ensure that your presence would remain undetected?”  
  
“That is impossible to answer, Lord Mandos. I had a cloak on with the hood up and spoke to no one. I do not know how my attackers were able to recognize me.”  
  
“Did you do anything to attract attention?”  
  
“I examined the memorial, placing my hands on it.”  
  
“Could someone have seen your face or your right hand?”  
  
“It is possible, though I deliberately made no eye contact with anyone and the outside of my hand is not visibly different. The scar is on the palm, as you well know. I _did not realize_ I had been recognized until the sword was drawn.”  
  
Manwë leaned forward. “You were given leave to defend yourself. Why did you not before you were injured?”  
  
“If I had struck first, no one would have been willing to defend or help me. Secondly, the Teler had a sword. I was not armed, as per your strictures.”  
  
“Why was Tirn not with you?”  
  
“The weather and the fact that he would draw unwanted attention to me.”  
  
“Why did you not stay near Telepevola?”  
  
“The conversation was in modern Telerin, and I could not understand it. I did not anticipate a problem if I examined the memorial.” I spun slowly in a circle to look at all the stony-faced Valar. “I went to Alqualondë to visit my mother. I did not deliberately start a fight. I did not deliberately break the peace of Valinor. I fail to see the reason why I am on trial when I was viciously attacked and rendered unable to defend myself, or even to escape.”  
  
Mandos answered, “So you avoid all culpability for your actions?”  
  
I turned to face him. “I did what I could do in order to remain unrecognized. Vola was within hearing distance. I believed myself safe enough.” I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I do not appreciate being forced to defend myself for a situation I had no control over. People have the right to walk in public in safety. If you want to blame someone for breaking the peace of Valinor, blame the men who attacked me.”  
  
I turned back to the Elder King, not taking my gaze off his inscrutable expression. It was a risk speaking my mind, but I could not back down. I had not been forbidden to visit the city, and more importantly, I had not started the fight. I stood there in silence as the sun slowly moved through the sky. From the minute changes of expression on the faces of the five Valar I could see, I knew they were speaking mind-to-mind. My fate would be decided shortly, and I was not privy to their discussion.  
  
The Doomsman finally said, “Maglor son of Fëanor, we have reached a decision. Given you are not entirely at fault, though we believe you hold some blame, we must tighten your restrictions. Thou are not allowed to travel outside of thy city, save to Lord Elrond’s House. If thou otherwise attempt to leave the city in which thou live, Maiar will escort ye to Valimar, where thou will dwell until we see fit to release ye. Dost thou understand?”  
  
I thinned my lips. “I do.”  
  
Manwë nodded and the Valar disappeared with a crack of inrushing air. So my freedom to travel with Elrond’s permission had been revoked. It was unnecessary, an overreaction, and insulting. When had I made any plans to travel, save for this trip to visit Vola? I had flatly refused to perform in any venue outside of my city, though people continued to ask. I snorted. At least now they would have to stop.  
  
I shook my head and walked out of the empty ring. To my surprise, only Elrond and Narmincë waited for me. She handed me Tirn’s leash and we started back to the inn. When I asked my wife where the crowd went, she said, “None of us could hear what was being said, so they left. A trial it may have been, but it was private.”  
  
“I’m not surprised, given they felt the need to partly blame me for what happened. And private-- or semiprivate-- trials… They never mean anything good.”  
  
Narmincë stopped walking and stared at me. “So they punished you for something other people else did?”  
  
I nodded, distracted by the sight of the two dead Trees over her shoulder. I had ignored them the last time I was here. Now, I couldn’t. I excused myself and climbed the gentle green rise of the Ezellohar. Once on top, I craned my neck, looking at them, black against the brilliant blue sky, recalling the good and the bad. I laid my right hand on each trunk before returning to my family, who were standing on the side of the road, giving me a bit of privacy.  
  
I shook my head when Elrond wanted to continue the conversation, and the rest of the walk to the inn was spent in silence.  


* * * * *

  
  
One week later, Elrond and I rode into the courtyard of the House, my wife having separated from us to return home. Unlike the last time I lived here, I had a room in the family wing, which Celebrían made a point of telling me meant I wasn’t in serious trouble. I smiled, knowing that was true. There was nothing else Elrond would do to me, given he had confessed on the journey that the Valar had punished me exactly the way he would have. That had caused me to raise an eyebrow at him at the same time I asked for a painkiller. I truly did not need or want to think of the Valar and my foster son conspiring against me (not that Elrond would, given _his_ feelings about the Valar). And yet, trials conducted in private meant that anything could be spread about what I said or what my punishment was, no matter that I had already told several dozen strangers on the way back. People would always assume things weren’t fully told. I refused to contemplate what secret trials meant on Middle-earth, and what the difference was here. The Valar weren’t evil, but neither did they truly understand human society, and what implications could be found over something innocent. Still, the Valar hadn’t punished me as much as they could have. That was something I had to keep in mind.  
  
Rather than eat in the main hall the second night I was there (the first night I spent with my family), Glorfindel dragged me to dinner with his wife, where I had an enjoyable evening with my friends, talking on the beach about nothing in particular. Tirn enjoyed playing once more in the surf. I spent the next couple of weeks relaxing, though the first day I was there Elrond examined me to make sure that I truly was healed. As expected, I was fine, save that my left hand was stiff enough that playing my violin, as well as the Telerin flute, was difficult, but the range of motion exercises were helping. I could only hope they would continue to, so I could resume my performances. Three weeks in, Glorfindel, Nárë, and I had a long, involved conversation about my trial that lasted until nearly dawn. They both felt it should have been public, for my sake and for the Valar’s. The Valar had mostly left the Eldar to govern themselves, and this touched dangerously on the border of becoming too involved in what had already been handled internally, though Nárë also felt that my trial had happened so they could prove they were keeping an eye on me. It was as likely an explanation as anything else. But I still wasn’t happy with it.  
  
After two months, I asked my son if I could return home. He agreed, partly because my hand was as healed as it was going to be, but mostly because there was no reason for me stay. I wasn’t forbidden from visiting, after all. Glorfindel and Nárë came with me, to visit other people they knew in my town. Once they left a week and a half later, Narmincë, true to her word, made me sleep in my studio, though she hadn’t been near as furious as she originally had been. Distance and healing (as well as a joint focus on the injustice of my punishment) helped. But she still didn’t want me sleeping with her. Rather than get into an argument about it-- I’d given her enough grief to last the rest of our lives to fight about something trivial-- I acquiesced. It wouldn’t last long; it never did.  
  
My friends in the town sympathized about my punishment, though the Vanya suggested that maybe the Valar had tightened that restriction for the express purpose of giving me some relief from those pestering me to perform in other cities. I looked at him in horror. “I do not want to think of them micromanaging my life-- or anyone’s. They know better, especially with a Fëanorian.”  
  
He grinned and wheeled down the ramp while I took the two steps from the tavern door to the ground. “Ah, but you forget they care. And do not tell me you would rather have them not care, for if they did not, you would still be in Middle-earth.”  
  
I stopped in my tracks and stared at him before heading home. He grinned cheekily in farewell and wheeled in the opposite direction. If that was true… I sighed. He could very well be correct. But I rather thought it was Elrond-- and possibly Ilúvatar-- who had pushed for my return. The Valar… There was still a large part of me that thought they would rather have had me remain on Middle-earth.  
  
As I walked home, Tirn at my side, I couldn’t help but notice, as compared to when I first arrived here, how things had changed. People had ignored me then, and though that still occurred, it wasn’t as frequent. They greeted me on the streets, not giving Tirn and me unnecessary space. They had relaxed around me, something I had assumed would never happen. I reached home and shut the gate behind me, letting Tirn off the leash to run around. I lay on the grass and looked up at the brilliant stars, focusing on the Valacirca. Yes, it was a sign for the Enemy that they still watched, but it was also possibly a sign for the Children that they still cared.  
  
I looked over at Narmincë as she settled herself next to me. I shifted slightly and placed my left hand in hers. It stunned me sometimes, when I thought of everything we had gone through and how we still loved each other. Quiet moments like this-- I hadn’t dreamed of them in my exile. It hurt too much. And to have them now meant everything. We hadn’t forgotten, but we had moved on. So we lay there together, discussing the stars and singing softly some of the ancient songs.


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks go to Pandemonium_213 for doing a wonderful job betaing RAFA. This story wouldn't have been nearly as good without her help.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the months into years, and the years into _yéni_. Friends visited, and ones from the First Age renewed their acquaintances. Mother came by on a regular basis so I wouldn’t have to break my restrictions, and we grew closer as time went by. She didn’t want to ignore her only living son more than she already had. I composed other works, many-- but not all-- received with praise. I eventually wrote a series of twelve books detailing the history of Middle-earth, which were widely read. A few loremasters considered it the direct cause of more of the Eldar traveling there. Celebrimbor and I collaborated on a project to translate the music formats of mortals to those playable on Eldarin machinery, though that solidly confirmed to some people that the House of Fëanor was insane, as most still had no desire to listen to it. Most importantly, Narmincë and I had been gifted with our first child, a boy I named Amdir. It had been a surprise to many, who had assumed that we never wanted children or that Narmincë was too old to bear one. He was nothing but a joy to us, save when he got into trouble as children were wont to do, and even then, he just reminded me of the hijinks my brothers and I or Elrond and Elros had gotten up to.  
  
One afternoon just over six years since his begetting, I was in my studio, teaching him a song on his harp, when someone knocked on my door. I answered it after motioning for him to continue playing, only to find my wife, her face pale, on the other side. “There’s a visitor for you in the living room.”  
  
I hurried downstairs, coming to a sudden stop when I saw exactly who was waiting for me: Eönwë, clad once again in his formal herald's uniform, though this time, he wasn't angry. He handed me a sealed parchment and disappeared with a crack of air. It obviously wasn't terrible news because he hadn't remained to see my reaction. I broke the seal and opened it.  
  
 _Maglor Fëanorion,_  
 _Come to the Máhanaxar at noon on the thirty-fifth of lairë._  
 _The Elder King_  
  
I reread the missive and sat heavily on the couch. Three weeks. But I couldn't figure out what I had done-- I had followed the strictures. I sighed. I could not ignore the order, but I was tired of the Valar’s interference, even though the last time I had been in their presence was after the incident in Alqualondë. I had lived knowing they were watching me from afar, and now they had summoned me for no reason. And I would have to go to find out why. I returned to my studio and handed my wife the letter. She read it and shook her head, leaving the room muttering about how hard it was to travel on short notice with a child. I put the letter on my desk, and rejoined my son. I would worry, but music would let me ignore it, and teaching my son would help even more.

 

* * * * *

  
  
Three weeks later, I grimly greeted my family and friends who had gathered in support, ignoring the rather large crowd that had followed us from the city. I hugged Narmincë and Amdir farewell and stepped into the ring, nervous but not showing it. The Valar, wearing their customary inscrutable expressions, acknowledged my bow with nods.  
  
Manwë spoke. “Maglor Fëanorion, we have called you here today for one purpose: to release you from your strictures.”  
  
I blinked. I had to have misheard him.  
  
Mandos intoned, “Thy full pardon we now give you. Thy strictures are ended. Thou are once more a Lord of the Eldar and a Prince of the Noldor. Thou are the head of your House, and are no longer in Lord Elrond's service. Ye shall be allowed to carry weapons where ye wishes. Ye shall abide by the laws of Valinor as thy fellow citizens do.” He looked sternly at me. “Thou has the full responsibilities of a free life. Carry them well.”  
  
I stared at the Doomsman and the Elder King in shock. “I hadn't expected this.”  
  
“That is why we give it to you,” Nienna said softly.  
  
I turned my head to look at her. “Thank you,” I said, though such was too shallow to convey my gratitude-- and my relief. After this, I was truly free. No more looking over my shoulder, or worrying if I was breaking the letter or spirit of a stricture, or having to go unarmed. No more would I wonder if things were about to fall apart because an enemy lied. Now my return truly was a second chance.  
  
I remained where I stood, as I was not yet dismissed. Manwë smiled and Aulë appeared between us (I hadn’t even noticed him leaving), holding a sword. He offered it to me, hilt-first. I slowly took it from him, unsure as to why this was happening. The Vala resumed his seat, and I unsheathed the blade to examine it. The steel was finely tempered, forged with the best quality steel I had seen in Ages, and utterly beautiful. Studying the craftsmanship that went into it, I knew that Aulë himself had forged it. The hilt was comfortable in my left hand and the balance perfect. The telling point was that the blade had an edge-- this was no decorative weapon. To be given a usable sword by the Valar after everything I had done was nearly inconceivable. I ran my right index finger over the First Age Quenya inscription that read, simply, _Forgiven_. I then sheathed the sword and bowed deeply before belting it around my waist.  
  
The Elder King said, “Bear it well, Maglor son of Fëanor.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
I half-expected him to say something further about responsibility and trust, but he didn’t, probably because he knew he didn’t need to. The Valar disappeared with the usual crack of air, and I strode out of the Máhanaxar. Narmincë ran to greet me, our son racing ahead of her. I tossed him into the air and hugged him before putting him back on the ground. He was too big now to carry comfortably. Narmincë kissed me and took my hand as we walked back to the group waiting for us.  
  
Elrond’s eyebrow rose when I stopped in front of him. “A sword?”  
  
I grinned. “My strictures have ended.”  
  
He laughed when my stomach growled. “It’s about time. Also, you need to eat. Let’s go back to the inn. You can tell everyone what happened then.”  
  
I nodded and we walked down the road, the crowd of strangers parting to let us through. I caught many of them staring at my sword, and couldn’t help but smirk. They’d be able to guess well enough what it meant. Once at the inn, I hurried up to my family’s suite and put the sword on the desk before checking on Tirn. I knelt next to his bed, and stroked him for a minute or so. I hadn’t wanted to leave him at home, but he was too old to walk the distance to the Máhanaxar, so I’d left him to nap in the inn. “I don’t know what I’d’ve done without you, Tirn. Come on; let’s get some food.”  
  
He jumped up, tail wagging. I rinsed my hands off after attaching the leash and headed downstairs. After a long meal explaining and talking through the implications of everything, Glorfindel asked, “So what are you going to do with the sword?”  
  
I put down my cutlery and frowned slightly. “I think I’m going to hang it on the wall of the living room, above the fireplace. Wearing it on the road home will be sufficient notice, and I don’t need to carry a sword on a day-to-day basis, though I will carry a dagger now. It’s mostly a symbolic gesture.” I glanced at everyone’s faces before explaining further. “The Valar know I won’t do anything, but more importantly, _I_ know I won’t. The sword… It’s the ending of a very long part of my life. This time, I can start anew, not forgetting the past, but no longer allowing it to dominate my future.”  
  
Elrond raised his glass in toast. “To the future, then.”  
  
I smiled at everyone, and especially at my wife and sons. “To the future.”


End file.
